Drabble Challenge
by Hollywoodx4
Summary: "By the third inhalation she was laughing, a happy sort of pain tugging at the melted organs on her side. Everything felt light, as if she were a feather in a room stacked to the ceiling with bricks." Ch. 34-37: Fabrevans
1. Touch

**So here's the place I'll keep all of my little drabbles. These are the sort of things my best friend and I write to each other as notes, so I'm hoping there'll be a lot of them here. **

**If you have any words you think I should write off of, send them in a review or Pm and I'll credit you :)**

**Challenge #1: Touch**

**[Finchel]**

A very pregnant Rachel Berry twirled around the house clutching a small pink blanket, twirling it above her head in a euphoric ballet improvised on the moment. She hummed an old lullaby her fathers used to play on tape for her-they were not musically gifted- and glided on hardwood flooring in her most worn out pair of pink ballet slippers; her lucky pair. As she twirled and danced she scattered more and more pink paraphernalia across the house, spreading it across chairs and tables as she made her way to their spare room.

The pile of pink could be traced to this room, smaller than the master but not completely tiny. It already had various pieces of furniture assembled in it, and one that was half-assembled, left for Finn to do when he came back from work. For now, the room was an organized chaos that made Rachel both anxious and ridiculously happy. Anxious because of the mess, but on cloud nine knowing what the room would be used for, and who would be occupying it in such a short time.

The walls were newly painted, a pale pink matching the quilt that was now draped across the railing of the white-wooded crib. An old pair of Rachel's ballet shoes had been hung on the wall over the crib, and the room itself was filled with pastel butterflies. The wardrobe Rachel's fathers had bought and filled with clothes was on the opposite wall, with picture frames just waiting to be filled on top of it.

Somewhere in the middle of her decorating spree, her simple humming had turned into a full on orchestra, the violins and cellos keeping time to her wild conducting as she danced to the melody of her childhood.

Finn stood in the doorway, watching the dance unfold in blissful silence. These moments were what he came home for, the simple times where he could see Rachel acting outside of her boundaries, simple and carefree. Her baggy T-shirt and sweatpants were endearing, the ballet shoes adding a touch of herself to the outfit that he admired, laughing to himself. She spun around, hitting the climax of her song and going down with a thud onto the floor. Finn raced from his place in the doorway, stepping over the mess she had generated in her song. She was clutching her ankle and moaning, the beginnings of tears reaching her eyes. She bit them back, and when he asked if she was okay she brushed it off, fake-laughing and wiping her eyes.

"Rachel, I've known you since high school, I can tell when you're lying. Let me see your ankle." He took her hand in his and removed it from her ankle, which it had been clutching in desperation. It had begun to swell, a swirl of black and blue starting to form along the bone. "Do you think it's broken?"

"No…I've had enough dance injuries to know that at least it's not broken, just twisted." She groaned again and tried to stand, but he held her down.

"Nope, you're not standing on that ankle just yet." He scooped her up gently and led her to the bedroom, dropping her on the bed and propping her foot on a pillow. Before she could protest, he began to massage her foot delicately, and she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, forgetting about her injury in her dreams.


	2. New

**Challenge #2: New**

**[Finchel/Klaine/Samcedes]**

The small restaurant was quaint, with light, jazzy music providing background to the murmuring of its patrons. Some were older, sitting on the porch of building watching cars roll by, while others were younger, squirming in their seats and coloring on paper menus while their parents tried to settle them down. This table was full of people who were in their teens, shoved in the back of the restaurant at a booth in the corner.

There were three couples at the table, each distinctly different from the other. The first, two boys, were holding hands under the table. The first boy, with curly black hair, talked with two others about football, mimicking his best touchdown dance while the other two laughed along, following suit. His boyfriend, a smaller, skinnier boy talked with the two girls at the table about their latest plans to visit New York, and what they would do differently this time. Altogether they were talking over each other, reaching to grab hold of the breadsticks or get a napkin after a spill. It was a new organized chaos, and it was bliss.

For one couple it was a feeling of renewal, of being brought together again. It felt regular, good. Along with that came a sense of newness, of starting all over again although they had picked up where they had left off. Even after their rocky past, Rachel and Finn sat at that table like nothing had happened; as if they had never broken up, and everything was alright again, because it was. There was no need to worry about what would come next, there was only that moment. There was no past-that wasn't important anymore. They had decided that whatever happened would be put behind them, a clean slate making a fresh start for themselves, and everyone else involved in their old drama.

Another couple had the impression of regularity. This was where they frequented, where so much had been talked about. This was where coffee Tuesdays had turned into dates, where Kurt's hatred of Valentine's day had been swept off of his feet in the same fashion he himself had been. In their case this was special, a place where everyone on the staff knew them, and they didn't have to worry about being stared at for who they were dating. It was safe, it was fun, it was regular.

The last couple was just stepping out of their awkward stage. Now that everyone had found out that they were dating, it was no longer a matter of hiding things. But hiding was what they were used to, so hiding is what they had tried to do. But with the other couple's coaxing, they had both just begun to come out of their shells, Mercedes laughed nervously and rested her head on Sam's shoulder. It was only a few seconds, but it seemed like a barrier had been broken, and all was right and exciting. Everything was an adventure with them, young love being something they had only heard about, or thought they had experienced before. But when Sam kissed her on her front porch at the end of the night they both realized that this was them, and these amazing feelings were new.

**[**If you have any words you think I should write off of, send them in a review or Pm and I'll credit you :)]****


	3. Doll

(This contains spoilers/ plot from Born This Way. If you haven't seen it, you may get confused.)

**Challenge #3: Doll**

**(Suggestion by Boris Yeltsin)**

**[Quinn-centric]**

When Quinn Fabray was a little girl, still Lucy Fabray, she was stunning. Her naturally brown hair hung down to her hip bone in large, long curls, and her big hazel eyes sparkled with a natural glow that made other parents look at her in awe. Simply naturally stunning at the young age of three, she had been noticed by a lot of people. So many, in fact, that one had suggested she go into pageants.

Her parents, with money to spare, greatly accepted the idea and began to train her. She would do two hours a day with the new woman that would come over, Cara, and practice her steps and turns until she had them perfect. All she ever wanted to do was impress her parents. They molded her until she became the perfect little cliché pageant girl, scoffing at the bargain dresses and holding the fans of prize money high as her trophy collection began to expand. In her first year alone she had won grand supreme in twenty pageants out of the twenty four she competed in. Her parents had never been happier with her.

She began to come out of her shell, but it was cracking the wrong way. She became rude, unwilling to accept new friends into her already tight circle. She would make fun of others for what they wore, or how they carried themselves. This is how she was raised from the first of her pageant days, and four year old Lucy had connected trophies to callousness, and callousness to her parents approval. It was a dangerous bargain, but she didn't know any better, and they hadn't even noticed.

As Lucy grew she began to win less trophies. Her parents had been going away on business more and more, and as Cara was set as her permanent nanny, she had grown closer to her than her own parents. After one particular trip, when Lucy was six and they had left her with Cara for a week, her parents noticed her closeness to her. Her mother, strangely distraught with the thought of her daughter looking up to another female figure, fired Cara and decided to go with babysitters and relatives instead of a nanny. Lucy was devastated, never to see her mentor again. She quit pageants, and as she grew Lucy had lost most of the friends she had made over the years. Her transition to middle school was an ugly one, and she had never missed someone as much as she missed her mentor.

Lucy became Lucy Caboosey, eating lunch in her teacher's rooms when she could, and in the hallway when she couldn't. The world was a cruel place to Lucy, and she had nowhere to turn. Her parents had all but given up on their once treasured little girl, so she had stashed her trophies away, not wanting to be reminded of who she once had been.

When her father had been transferred, the world was looking up. A new job meant more money, and moving on the last day of school meant a whole summer of prep for her new school, a high school in Lima, Ohio. Lucy Caboosey was ready to be transformed. So her father let her get a nose job, and she smeared Proactive on her face all summer while she tanned her pale skin and bleached her once brown hair. The summer ended with a new girl, skinny and athletic from her summer dance and gymnastic classes, ready to take on high school as a completely new person.

Now Quinn Fabray, Lucy hadn't forgotten about her past. She hid her secrets with skill, and fit right in to the popular crowd after nailing her cheer tryout. She had an identity, she was a person. But even as Quinn, Lucy was still malicious, with a biting temper and the ability to make people fear her. She liked the person she had become, popular, in the place of her tormenters at her old school.

Her parents had asked her if she wanted to do pageants again, but as Quinn. Her mother had begun to pay attention to her again, and as much as she had missed the love of a mother, she had realized that that's not what she was getting-or ever got. She was receiving the selfish pride of a mother that wanted to re-live her past through her child, and the daughter-as both Quinn and Lucy- decided that she did not want to be her mother's doll again.

**Thank you so much for all of your kind reviews so far, you're all what keeps me going! :)**

**As always, you can either Pm me suggestion words, or just send them through a review!**


	4. Pure

**Challenge #4: Pure**

**(Challenge suggested by EmoGleek)**

**[Finchel]**

She was everything he had imagined and so much more. Yawning, she blinked and tried to open her harsh eyes against the fluorescent light, but to no avail. It was still too strong for her. He laughed and held her hand from where he was sitting, eager to hold her but not wanting to take her away from the woman who was currently holding her. Rachel rocked the baby gently, a knot forming in her throat. She had made it. She was here-they were all here. He knew that he only had a short moment to be alone with his small family before the others came in, so he held his arms out before Rachel, receiving his daughter for the first time.

She was tiny, smaller than he had expected her to be. Her light weight felt strange in his arms and he held her with caution, rocking her slowly in his arms. The second time she tried to open her eyes it was still too bright, so he used his strong build to cast a shadow over her body, and blinking she revealed her bright brown eyes. She looked around, eyes shifting warily over her new surroundings. Finn cooed, trying to get her attention.

"Hi, I'm your daddy." When she looked over to the noise his face light up, and his heart swelled at her eye contact. "Look, Rach. She knows who I am already!" He was like a five year old on Christmas morning, and he went to sit next to Rachel again with a sense of pride. "And you're Stella, our little star." He held her right next to Rachel, scanning her tiny body for similarities to his wife.

"Look, she has your eyes." He stroked his daughter's face, and then hers, brushing her hair from her worn out face.

"But that's definitely your nose."

"What about the ears…where did those come from?" They looked at each other and shrugged, returning to their little game. When they had counted ten fingers and ten toes for the second time, there was a knock on the door.

"I'm sorry to bother you Mr. and Mrs. Hudson, but there are quite a few people here to see you." There was a pale hand on the door, and the male figure pushed through first. He wore a smile that filled his whole face, and he carried a bunch of pink balloons with prestige.

"Here's your favorite uncle!" Kurt stood next to Finn and held his arms out, a pleading look on his face. "Gimme gimme, can I hold her?" He was almost as bad as Finn in the patience department. Finn unwillingly gave his daughter up and watched his step brother with his daughter. Kurt held her gently, talking to her in a gentle voice.

"I'm Uncle Kurt, your favorite. I'll be the one to spoil you, so don't worry about that. Well, there's Uncle Blaine too, but you know I'll be your favorite. And you might be asked to sing a lot because your parents are freaks and you're surrounded by singing aunts and uncles, so good luck to that." The others in the room laughed, knowing that his words were true.

Most of the Glee club had stayed friends through college, although the varied pairs of people split off when they saw college life and all of its temptations. In college they would meet once a month at a different place each time, and each time some new drama came along. The one meeting Quinn hadn't come to was when she was invited to Beth's fourth birthday party, where Shelby introduced her as a family friend. Another monthly meeting held the drama of Tina and Mike's first breakup, where they had both showed up to the meeting, saw each other, and walked right back out. Through the turbulence it was mostly the golden group that remained, the original six.

When everyone had left with much prompting from the tired parents, Finn held his daughter for the last time that day. Looking down at her and then back at his sleeping wife, he couldn't imagine anything more pure.

**Feel free to drop suggestions in a review or pm! (I have a budding three page word document so far) and thanks again for all of the support :)**

**-Hollywood**


	5. Wink

**Challenge #5: Wink**

**(Challenge suggested by EmoGleek)**

**[Klaine]**

It takes forty-nine muscles in the human body to wink. Simply put, their whole relationship was based off of these forty-nine little geniuses, working together in simple harmony to make one simple movement. But this one movement spoke copiously to the porcelain-skinned boy in the un-uniform blazer. Blaine fixed Kurt's jacket, moving its lapel out from under his shoulder bag. He winked before moving to join the Warblers in a performance, leaving the supposed new kid smiling wide.

They were in biology, on opposite sides of the room, the second time these muscles were put to work. Their professor was droning off on another lecture again, and even Kurt, who had only been at Dalton for three weeks, knew how far on a tangent the teacher could go. But these weren't the fun tangents that kids usually tried to get their teachers on. Nobody who had been at Dalton long would _ever _try to get Professor Greyson off on a tangent. Hell, nobody in their right mind even listened to his tangents. Mostly, they just scribbled in their notebooks, or talked to each other. Kurt wasn't sitting next to anybody he knew, and they were clearly wrapped in their own conversation, so he began to let his mind wander. He let his chin rest on his hands, and tuned everyone out until all he could hear was a dull murmuring of voices. He let his eyes wander too, until they locked with a certain pair of hazel eyes across the room. The other boy winked, and then hurriedly went back to pretending to take notes, leaving Kurt smiling wide and holding back a giggle.

They were at prom, and he had just finished calming Kurt down after the whole prom queen incident. He was waiting in the crowd, watching his boyfriend get crowned queen. The lights hit his body perfectly, creating a long shadow on the stage. Kurt was nervous, looking out through a sea of people he knew were waiting for him to fail, waiting for him to give in to their torment. Among the crowd he found a familiar curly-haired head, and he looked at Blaine and smiled. Blaine looked back, giving him a wink and a thumbs up, and unknowingly giving him the courage to wear his crown with pride.

They were getting married, and both having decided Kurt would be making the 'grand walk' down the aisle, he stood in the back of the church, clutching his father's hand as if he were a little kid at the doctors again, preparing to get a shot. He watched the rest of the party go down the aisle without flaw, knowing that it would be him to make a huge mistake at his own wedding. As soon as the march played and everyone stood up from their seats, he began to really feel his nerves sink in. He played with the hem of his tux, walking in time with the march, which he swears got slower in tempo since the last wedding he went to. Finally, he looked up. At the end of the aisle, in a classic black tux, was Blaine. He looked just as nervous as Kurt felt, hands clasped neatly in front of him, eyes focused only on Kurt. When he and his father got to the end of the aisle, and Blaine came to get him, Kurt squeezed his father's hand, taking Blaine's in his. Blaine leaned over, whispering "You look amazing." into Kurt's ear. Kurt blushed, and Blaine winked at him before turning back to the justice of the peace, ready to finally say 'I do.'

**Thanks for reading :) As always if you have any suggestions, feel free to drop them by me. Or if you have any favorite pairings drop them by me too, although it can't be garunteed that I'll write for certain pairs. **

**-Hollywood**


	6. Jump

**Challenge #6: Jump**

**(Challenge suggested by Haley Renee)**

**[Sort of Tike, with many mentions of Tartie. There's no way to classify it, really]**

Even people who barely knew them had a hunch that they would date-even he did. But he expected it to be different than the way it ended up playing out. He had seen white picket fences, houses with yellow siding and a big dog that could handle their children-all carbon copies of her. He would put them on his lap and let them ride around in his wheelchair; she would teach them Chinese and calligraphy and things about their heritage. They would be a tag team, Tina taking over when he could go no longer, and him doing the same for her. He could see it, it would be great.

But his vision had never been great; he had been given glasses around three years old, his sight with no chance of improvement. He should have seen that his picture could have been flawed, but he was distracted by her; by her beauty, her voice, the way she was always so willing to help him. He was distracted by being so in love with her that he couldn't see that his ray of sunshine was being overtaken by a cloud; a distraction.

He was everything Artie was not. Tall, Asian, with abs and working legs. He hadn't been worried when she had gone to Asian camp, only supportive. He knew that Asians loved to celebrate their culture, and a camp was just what Tina needed in the middle of another summer of family trips with her parents. He wasn't worried because Mike was shy, a good guy, and would never backstab anyone in the Glee club-especially since he had seen so much betrayal already. But Artie was wrong. Mike hadn't been concerned at all with Artie's feelings, only about getting with Tina. He had underestimated him. He was Asian, Artie was not. Because apparently being Asian made you have more in common with someone you barely knew compared to someone you had known most of your life. _Your best friend._

In one particular dream, one that he would have over and over, there were five of them; himself, Tina, two boys and a girl. The boys would be playing pirates on a swing set in what he assumed was their backyard, and the girl sitting helpless and bored at the top of it while they ran and climbed around her. She was the princess, destined to stay up in the tower while the boys battled all day to release her.

At lunch time the daughter in his dreams would be left in the tower by her brothers, and it was him that had to rescue her. He would wheel himself over to the bottom and watched her, shifting nervously on her feet, when she realized it was him. He couldn't get up to where she was, so he held out his hands, trying to help her in the only way he could.

"Jump!" He would say, and she would look in any other direction than his.

"But I don't want to break you." She would sit down at this moment, dress-up clothes wrinkling underneath her. "I can wait for mommy." And no matter how much he tried, he could never coax her to trust him enough to jump.

When people began to ask what went wrong after Artie and Tina's breakup, he would simply shrug. "Well, it's a long story, but it was Mike. He was better than me, so she went with him." He didn't want the pity, or the fake sympathy. He just wanted somebody who would understand him. Even her mother was shocked when she heard his reply.

"Better than you? Artie, she loved you, she still does. Just give her time. Don't give up." Even if Artie would always be at the bottom of the tower, coaxing the princess into jumping, he was still the same person. And no matter how long it took, he would wait for his Queen and their white picket fence.

**As always, reviews are loved and suggestions are welcome :)**

**-Hollywood**


	7. Clean

**Challenge #7: Clean**

**(Challenge suggested by EmoGleek)**

**[Quick]**

Quinn scrubbed at the kitchen counters for the third time that hour, grimacing at a stain that wasn't even there. Occasionally she would grunt, wiping loose hairs from her forehead and bending deeper into her work. She was anxious, not sure what to expect. She was _scared._

The morning wasn't like any other morning. She woke up alone again and shuffled drowsily into the kitchen, yawning as she let a wall of frost escape the freezer, hitting her with such gusto that she shut the door, blinking and unsteady on her feet. Today was not a day for breakfast. Quinn ran her hand through her tousled hair and turned the water in the shower all the way hot, stepping out of her clothes with an early morning slowness that was unlike her usual morning attitude. But today was different, she was allowed to be slow. She let the boiling water come into contact with her skin at ease, soaking in to the harsh sting of pain. As she felt the water's heat travel through her body, it warmed her nerves, and she was finally looking at her day in a new light.

This was all gone when the shower was over, and another wall of cold air hit her twice as hard as the last one. This wasn't a day for excitement-this wasn't a day for anything. This day could be just like any other day for all she knew.

She had tried to run some errands early in the morning, but to no avail. At first she tried the grocery store, a normal mundane task that would set the day in stone as any other before it. After a while the music had begun to give her a headache, though, and she had already taken aspirin this morning. She had fully given up at the grocery store when her appetite had taken over the cart, and she went through the line and paid, not really sure what she had purchased. Next was the bank, but she hadn't even tried to get anything done there. The line for the drive through was six cars long, and Quinn would not go into the bank. She was not willing to deal with people today, all they did was let you down in the end.

She had an uneventful lunch with a coworker, Wendy, who wouldn't stop complaining about her simple life. _Oh please, _she had thought, _I wish my life was simple._

Coming home later than usual from work had left her furiously cleaning the house, throwing things in the general area they belonged and dusting every piece of art in the house. When she had finished all she could do, looking at the clock and realizing that she still had ten minutes and the day could still go as they had planned so many times before, she scrubbed the counter again. Five minutes and still no sign of breaking the chain, so she swept the floor again, liking the meticulous, regular movement of the sweeper against the hardwood floor. Three minutes got her at the counter again, and one minute had her pacing around the kitchen, waiting anxiously for something she hadn't heard in months.

There was a brief moment of confusion when she had realized the doorknob turned, and then she ran as fast as she could to the front door, tackling the man standing under it full force. She buried her face in his chest and breathed in, both of their shirts soaked from tears of joy. She pulled away from the embrace and looked up to the man standing in front of her. He looked new, freshly shaven of his stubble and his mohawk, wearing a shirt she had never seen on him before. He held her hands and took her in, scanning her for any little freckle that he may have missed. They locked eyes and he hugged her again, this time slower. The world wouldn't end, only continue. He had finally come back from his absence.

"I did it." His voice was quivering, and she could tell that he was on the verge of tears again. "I'm clean."

**(Is it fair to play favorites with your drabbles? Because I think this might be my favorite.)**

**As always, reviews are loved and suggestions are welcome :)**

**-Hollywood**


	8. Fix

**Challenge #8: Fix**

**(Suggested by Haley Renee)**

**[St. Fabray]**

They were broken. Not as a unit, but separately-they had never been a unit. She barely knew him. All she knew was that they were both broken people, shattered by the union of two others. They were broken, and they needed to be fixed.

He hadn't come to terms with his break-it had only happened mere hours ago, when he watched the girl he loved kiss another guy in front of a full house of people. It had re-broken when she had defended the other guy, when there was yelling and fighting and confusion. It had all ended when she left his room in tears, and left him alone in the same state. He wasn't the same person he was when he had decided to make the drive up to New York; he had been determined, excited to see his girlfriend. When he saw her sing on that stage he had been genuinely happy, not caring about the other guy. He had done duets with his exes before, what could make this different? But when she kissed him, his world shattered, and a piece of himself had gone missing.

A piece of herself had gone missing. She had lost it a long time ago, during a state of emotional distress with an added bonus of heartbreak. She had time to get over it, though. It had been almost two weeks since the incident. But seeing him singing with her didn't make her want to fight anymore, it only made her angry at herself. For the longest time, all she had wanted to do was fight Rachel, get Finn back from Rachel, or steal him from Rachel. But now, seeing them together like this made her realize that this wasn't about Rachel Berry-it never had been. It was about redeeming a love that had long faded, a first love that hurt when it was lost, and couldn't be found again.

He was upset, unable to cope with himself and the monster he had become. Never before in his life had he wanted to harm a human being as much as he wanted to harm Finn Hudson. He was shaking with fear; fear of himself, and fear of the person he had become. He didn't want this life, this constant red cloud hanging over his vision. He wanted to be the person he had been before all of this, when he was a Freshman in high school and the opportunities had been endless. He wanted to be the person he was before he fell in love with Rachel Berry.

She was distraught, coping with who she was and what she had done since she had fallen in love with Finn Hudson. In her three years of high school she had gotten pregnant, fallen into cheating and lies, and was unable to turn back to the person she loved. In the course of three years she had fallen in and out of love with many, but none so much or so often as her first love. She was crying for herself; for who she had become and how she had changed. She was crying for the people she had hurt through the course of her high school career, for the people she had stepped on to get to the top of a pyramid. But she had learned from years of cheerleading that a pyramid was only as strong as the people who were on its bottom, and that's where she had fallen when she fell out of love with herself. She wanted to change, but most of all she wanted to be more of a person than she was when she had fallen in love with Finn Hudson.

They had something in common-a love for hiding from their fears. That's what they had been doing at the café that day, each spending their last day in New York in isolation, not wanting to face anybody else. He had come in first, ordering a coffee and sitting in the booth farthest from the front of the café. He didn't want to be recognized, not today. He sipped slowly, wondering about the rest of his day. There were still six hours before his flight would leave, and he had already repacked his suit case, which could've wasted a half an hour or so. He was contemplating staying in the little café all day, and if that's what would help him calm himself, then so be it.

She didn't want to face the rest of the world. She didn't want to feel the pang in her gut she had felt so many times that night, whenever Rachel was in the same room as her. Rachel had never even crossed to the same side of the room as her, remembering previous moments when Quinn had crossed her. Sure, they hadn't been the best of friends, but they could have been multiple times. But the harsh mask of love had blinded them, and Quinn had become the resident royal ice queen. She hadn't crossed anyone as much as she had crossed Rachel, and she didn't want to apologize to anyone as much either. But the barrier of her fear kept her from crossing that line, and she walked to the little café down the street instead.

She ordered tea, her voice still hoarse from the events of the competition the day prior. Then, she ducked stealthily to the back of the café, keeping her head down and lowering herself into a chair. When she peeked up from her tea, a familiar face was looking straight back at her in confusion, but his face had a quality of something she had not seen there before. His face looked hollow, a shell of the one she had seen so many times before. He wore bags under his eyes, which were bloodshot in their corners still. She could tell he had been crying, if they were anything alike. She could tell by the redness in his face that he had been angry, and his tousled hair meant that he had been thinking. She could tell that they had a lot in common.

"…Jesse?" Her voice was smaller than he remembered. She held her cup of tea with both dainty hands. She was more controlled than he was. But they were similar. He could tell by the way the tea moved in ripples against her cup that she was nervous, her uneven nails a sign that she had been anxious the night before. He could tell from the way she carried herself, posture slumped and eyes seemingly forced open, that she felt defeated. But he could also tell that she wanted to fix everything, and he admired her for that.

He wiped his face, ridding it of any unnoticed tears and brushed off his sadness. But they were similar, and she saw through the mask he wore-one she had tried to hide behind her whole high school career. "Oh, um, hey." He paused for a minute and saw that she didn't get his act. He let his guard down, sighing in defeat and sipping his coffee again. "How are you?"

"By the looks of it, better than you are." He laughed, knowing that she was speaking the truth. "But don't worry, that's only because I have years of practice with these sort of things."

"What sort of things?"

"…Hiding." She looked away for a moment, pretending to be busy tending to her tea while she tried to collect her thoughts into a coherent sentence. "Don't make the mistake I spent almost my entire high school career making."

"And what would that be?"

"Hiding. That mask you wear might seem like your friend now, but if you keep it up too long it'll be your _only _friend soon enough." In seeing his face, something hit her, and she reached across the table and grabbed hold of his hand in empathy. "I've been through what you're about to go through, and it's hell. Just do me one favor."

"What?" He was mesmerized by the gentle touch of her hand on his, locked in her gaze.

"Try to let your guard down. People can't help you unless they know what's going on with you."

"I will if you will."

"Fine."

Quinn and Jesse were similar, both with a façade they had been keeping up until that day at the café. They were broken, two hearts with missing pieces, two bodies with missing minds. Quinn and Jesse were not a unit-they never had been, but as they walked out of the café, ready to face the world, they realized that they could be. And that's all two broken people needed-to be fixed.

**As always, reviews are loved and suggestions are not necessary, but welcome :)**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Hollywood :)**


	9. Frame

**Challenge #9: Frame**

**(Suggested by EmoGleek and Boris Yeltsin)**

**[No specific pairing]**

Everything looks different on the other side of a picture frame. Smiling faces stare back at you in their prime-there are no scars, no bumps or bruises. Through a frame it is impossible to see what a person has gone through, or who they are. A picture is only the representation of a memory, a frame its encasement. People seem to think that you can hide the bad moments of your life by displaying your most fond. People are wrong.

There is a picture in Burt Hummel's office of his son. It is an older one, when Kurt was around thirteen and he and his father had gone fishing. Kurt is waving to the camera, which is on shore, from a canoe. His father is holding up a fish with pride, Kurt trying to focus his attention away from it. He didn't like fish back then; they were too slimy, and wriggled around too much. He had gone with his father because he wanted to talk to him. But you could never tell that by looking into the frame. Nobody who looks at that picture knows that that weekend, Kurt was going to come out to his father. Nobody can tell that Kurt had chickened out, talking himself out of it. There is no trace of Kurt's feelings that weekend, his brush with death. All you can see when you look into the frame is the last day of their trip, when things had come into place and Kurt felt better about himself. You can only see the best part of the memory, not the horrible events leading up to it, and Burt Hummel likes it that way.

In between the two pillows she keeps in her pillow case, Quinn keeps a picture she looks at when she's upset. In it there's a girl, herself. She's exhausted, sweat just wiped off of her forehead, her blonde hair pushed hastily to one side. There is a boy kneeling next to her, with a dark brown faux-hawk and tan skin. His arms are around her, and in her own arms lay a baby girl; her baby girl. She is small and fragile, and Quinn holds her with a sense of unfamiliarity and nervousness. Instead of looking down at the baby, she and the boy in the picture are looking at each other, eyes locked and smiling. In the picture, she remembers, she is truly happy. When she looks at this picture, she doesn't have to look back to the reason the child is in her arms, or the pain of that whole year. She can put it behind her, remembering the small body soft in her arms. She can remember what it is like to be a part of a family that is truly happy on the inside, and not just a façade. She doesn't have to remember the pain, and for that she is grateful.

Artie has a collection of frames on his bureau. In most of them are pictures of himself and his family; cousins, aunts, and grandparents. There is one picture that made the bureau, though, that isn't a member of his family. The frame is a resemblance of simpler times, made out of popsicle sticks and painted baby blue, decorated with stickers of daisies and baseballs. Encased in the frame is the memory of a friendship he wished he could have back desperately. He is small, only around four years old. He and a girl his age had been stopped from their playing to take a picture. She is holding his hand, her head on his shoulder. She is wearing light purple, and her black hair is free of colored highlights. They are both displaying wide smiles, smeared with the mess from their popsicles. When he looks at this, he never thinks about the accident; it's too painful. He only remembers how free he felt running around in the grass, playing tag with Tina in the front yard and then laying on the floor to color in their Disney books. He doesn't remember that this picture was taken exactly two years before the accident that changed his life. He forgets about his rocky relationship with the girl who is holding his hand in the picture, because in pictures resting in frames it is a different world, and Artie wants to go back there.

The good thing about picture frames is that it keeps your memories safe. Kurt knows he will never forget the time he and his mother had a tea party during a power outage, himself wearing her favorite high heels and his mother taking a sip of pretend tea. Blaine cherishes the frame he keeps on the desk in his room; a picture of himself and his brother when they went on a road trip, before he went to college and left him with their abusive father. Puck looks at the sonogram in the black frame above his bed every night, hoping things will change- they never do. While frames are good for keeping memories in, that's the purpose that hurts a lot of people; knowing that they can never be where they once were.

**As always, reviews are loved and suggestions are welcome but not necessary :)**

**I'm trying to get a lot done now because I won't be able to post Tuesday night- I'll be at the Glee concert! So expect more updates this weekend and hopefully Monday, and sorry about the delay I know will happen on Tuesday.**

**-Hollywood**


	10. Wave

**Challenge #10: Wave**

**(Suggested by Haley Renee)**

**[Brittanna]**

When Brittany was young, she and her mother and little sister would always spend part of their summer in Texas with their relatives on her side of the family. Her father never came-he wasn't liked too much by them. It was a sort of girl's vacation, and it was by far Brittany's favorite part of the whole year.

They would talk all the way up to Texas. Sometimes they would take the plane, but other years they would take the train. That was Brittany's favorite part, the trip down. When her sister was really young she would be sitting on her mother's lap, which left Brittany in the seat across from her on the train. (or next to her if they took the plane) This always guaranteed her a window seat, and she would often just look out the window while she colored or talked to her mother.

She would always ask questions-that was a given. Sometimes, they were relevant to the scenery or the train itself. Sometimes, they were just things that popped into her head at that moment. That was the thing about Brittany-she had no off switch, no way to decide what she should ask and what she would just leave to herself. On one trip, when she was ten and her sister was five, they had finally reached the seacoast when Brittany had one of her moments. She was wondering about the waves in the sea.

"A wave is controlled by the moon. You know when the water is covering the rocks, and we can't go to the beach?" Brittany nodded, remembering all of the times they had to give up the ocean for another activity. "That's called high tide, and then when we do go to the beach it's low tide. The moon controls it all."

As she got older, Brittany got more and more interested with the patterns of the waves. It sounded pretty, the constant crash and relapse of the wave against the shore, but for her that's not what it was about. The waves were about control. She found it so amazing that two things that were so far away could have such a connection, the moon controlling the patterns of the waves, the waves reacting to the patterns of the moon. They were two separate entities, but somehow they managed to come together in perfect harmony without early scientists even knowing.

Their relationship was like a wave-or at least that's what Brittany compared it to. There was something about the way they reacted to each other, moving around each other in a sort of game, effecting each other indirectly without saying a single word. A lot of people thought Brittany was stupid, but she resented that thought. She could be smart when she wanted to be, and she was smart when it came to Santana.

Santana was the moon, an ever-controlling presence in her life. Sometimes she was full and glorious in her confidence and strength, and others she was covered, hiding. Her love was controlled by the reactions around her, and it was sporadic and beautiful all at the same time.

She was the waves, crashing against the shore with wounded violence when the moon was at its low point. She looked up to the moon for guidance, for the points where she was allowed to fall gently against the shore without relapse. She did not want to relapse. When the moon was covered, and she was alone with no guidance, she feared the shore. From her place in the ocean other waves danced happily toward it, ready for the crash. She did not want to crash-crashing meant pain she was not ready for. Crashing meant preparing for another relapse, it meant forgiving the moon and preparing to see it again. Sometimes, after a painful crash against the shore, the waves would suck her back with them when she was not ready to receive the moon again. Being a wave was painful and beautiful all of the things that made her want to see the moon. Being a wave meant that she was a part of the constant ebb and flow that was her relationship with the moon.

When Brittany was young, she never understood the way the waves crashed against the shore, and why they would retract back in if they knew they were going to slam against the shore again. As she got older, she began to understand. The best part of a wave was its peak, when it began to foam, right before its crash. The only way for a wave to experience its peak was if it was willing to go through the crash again. Brittany was smart about some things, and she knew that any wave would be willing to go through a crash if it meant it would be able to have its relationship with the moon again. She knew that nothing could pull the tether that attached their cores, that created the tides and the waves, and everything that was right with the beach. That's why Brittany loved the beach so much as she got older-it made her think, and she no longer felt stupid when she began to think about the waves. That was one thing she had all figured out.

**Hope I pleased the many of you who requested Brittanna, this was my first one. **

**(Finchel coming soon for the other group of you who keep requesting them too, don't worry there'll never be a lack of Finchel, they're my OTP :)**

**As always, reviews are loved and suggestions are welcome! Thanks again for all of you lovely people who have been reading every chapter and sending me lovely thoughts and comments. Sending those right back to all of you! :)**

**-Hollywood**


	11. Forgive

**Challenge # 11: Forgive**

**(Suggested by Haley Renee)**

**[Finchel]**

He feels like the most misunderstood person in the world right now, and damn it all, life isn't fair. Rachel's just run off after a talk in the hallway, and he knows she's crying. He can see her in his head, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, reapplying powder in the bathroom, and then giving him a nasty look as she enters the choir room, sitting on the opposite side of the room next to his step-brother. But really, it's not his fault he won't forgive her.

He enters the room before her, just as he thought he would, and sits next to Quinn quietly. She asks him what's wrong, but he shrugs and she puts her head on his shoulder, wrongly thinking that she's comforting him when she's doing the exact opposite. Rachel comes in a minute later, arm linked with Kurt's. They both shoot him a look, and Finn realizes that Rachel's back to pretending to be strong. She told him once, when they were still dating, that she would do that all the time around him when they weren't together. It was hard to be strong when the person you loved was openly snuggling someone else in the classroom. But she keeps her hard exterior with the precision that only an actress of her class could, and whispers to Kurt and Mercedes, who seem to be very interested in whatever tale she's telling them.

For Finn Hudson, life is not fair. This is not what he wanted at all. Quinn's body feels hard and unfamiliar against him when she cuddles against him, her hand the wrong piece of the puzzle when she tries to hold his. It is wrong, it doesn't fit, but he doesn't have the courage to say otherwise. They walk down the halls like the power couple they had once been, when they weren't involved with the glee club and he had no idea love could be so powerful. He hadn't met Rachel yet.

He's forgiven Quinn for what she's done, but he still won't forgive Rachel. Everyone else thinks it's wrong, thinks he's stupid for not forgiving her. Nobody will let him plead his case, and it's frustrating. All he gets is dirty looks, and he's sick of it. This is not what he chose. They should be giving Rachel dirty looks. But he takes that thought back immediately because she's so perfect, and she doesn't deserve the crap she's already getting for just existing.

Yet he still can't forgive her. Weighing the two girls, he can clearly see that what Quinn did to him was worse…so why can he forgive her so easily? He ponders this one day as he walks to his car from glee practice. He kisses Quinn goodbye and feels nothing, but shrugs it off. He's already said goodbye to everyone, but most are still hanging around in the school's parking lot. He sits in his car and waits for Kurt, who walks out late with Rachel and Mercedes. Rachel looks over to the familiar truck and smiles, but cuts herself off and turns the other way. It is painful for both of them, but Kurt hugs Rachel and she seems better, but Finn is not. Kurt gets in the car and doesn't say a word to his step brother the whole ride home. Nobody understands what Finn is going through.

He won't forgive Rachel because she hurt him. He won't forgive her because she was his everything, and she killed that. He won't forgive her, but he'll forgive Quinn. Quinn doesn't mean as much to him, Quinn didn't hurt him as much, even though what she did was obviously far worse. After mulling this over in his room that night, he gets his answer. He hasn't forgiven Rachel because she means more to him than anyone in the world. Well, except maybe his mom, but that's different. Rachel has the power to scar his heart more than anybody else he has ever met. One icy stare and the cut is reopened, and he can't bear it anymore. He hates the feeling of someone having so much power over him; someone who can slice him with one stare, or melt his heart with one word. He's never felt that before, so he's scared. He's unsure of himself, but he knows he doesn't want to be hurt the way she hurt him ever again. But he also becomes aware of the fact that he can't stand seeing her with anyone else, so he has to forgive her. She has to be his again, because living without her is like living without oxygen, or the sun. It sucks.

**This is a story I've had to tell everyone. I've got to stick up for Finn because nobody else will. THIS is why he wouldn't forgive Rachel. (Well, it's my theory but In my mind it's the truth)**

**As always, reviews are loved and suggestions are welcome :)**

**(I have a four page word document of words, so I'm almost always inspired.)**

**Love you guys!**

**-Hollywood**


	12. Test

**Challenge #12: Test**

**(Challenge taken from DG forum's 100 day challenge)**

**[Rachel/Quinn friendship]**

They tested each other's limits, they both knew that. There were certain boundaries that would snap if you crossed them, and it felt like their boundaries were intertwined. It seemed as if there was no way they could be friends.

Other than anger, there was a sort of intellectual test going on between them, although it wasn't through spoken word. There wasn't competition in grades, but in the way they acted around their teachers. It wasn't about tests, it was about which one of them their peers thought belonged with Finn-but that's what it really was all about.

They had both mulled over the choices late at night, after a strange day where it seemed they could be friends. One would forget their assumed feud and compliment the other, or slip up and think for just a moment that the other girl would be good with Finn. But both always made the choice of staying awkward acquaintances-it was better that way.

They tested each other's abilities, their talents. One week, Rachel would bring the house down with a power ballad, and Quinn would take the unspoken challenge and croon a sweet jazz piece in her differently beautiful voice. One would duet with Finn, and the other would do the same. They were in a sort of dance, a sweet competition with no clear end in which there was no clear start. There was no conductor, and they were forced to continue on in this sick ballet until they could no longer see the lights of the stage shining down on them.

Until one day, after Rachel and Finn had gotten together and the Glee club was hanging out at Tina's house, which boasted a large in ground pool. That summer was distinctly different for all of them, Sam's father getting back on his feet, Puck's pool cleaning business soaring for more than just the sex, and Tina and Mike's final breakup. Nothing was as monumental as that pool party, when the rest of the club could see Rachel and Quinn whispering and laughing at a table on the patio, or carpooling home. There was nothing like seeing Rachel freely kiss Finn goodbye before getting into Quinn's car and driving away with her.

Their friendship had been shaped in a strange way. They were pottery, and their creator was new at the wheel, so there were some dents and bruises in it. But they were content with it, and they showed it like the potter's proud mother put candy in her new bowl, displaying it in the middle of the supper table. It had happened when the final test of their boundaries had finished, and Quinn had called Rachel sobbing.

"I need to talk to you." Upon hearing the familiar voice Rachel was confused, holding her phone a bit away from her face and plopping down on her bed.

"Quinn? What…what's wrong?"

"I was awful to you, all year." Quinn paused, reaching over to pull a tissue from the box and blot her eyes, looking into the bathroom mirror in disgust. "Well, more than that."

"I remember." She had nothing else to say, and they were caught in a moment of awkward phone silence. Rachel cleared her throat and continued, "Well, I wasn't exactly a saint to you."

"You had a right, Rachel. I was a bitch to you for absolutely no reason other than the fact that I could tell that Finn liked you. I was petty and jealous, and I just wanted to say…well…I'm sorry for all of that." Rachel was taken aback, she had never expected an apology from the girl who had made her high school years a living hell, the girl who had tested her nerves, who had snapped them so many times. She didn't want to apologize, but her head was telling her otherwise.

"It's ok. I forgive you."

"…and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to give being friends a shot? I know it might seem like a long run, but I really need a friend right now." There was another pause, and Rachel was laying on her bed mouth agape, staring into the mirror on her vanity in awe.

"I would like that. Do you want to go shopping with me tomorrow? I need some new clothes, and as much as I would've hated to admit this before, you have really good taste." There was laughter on the other side of the line, and Quinn agreed to Rachel's plan, and they began to talk about boys and teachers and TV shows as if they had been friends for years, filling each other in on everything they had missed. It was no longer strange-they had both just passed the last test they would give each other.

**As always, reviews are love and suggestions are welcome!**

**[Thanks to all of the loyal readers reviewing every chapter, you guys amaze me!]**

**-Hollywood**


	13. Giggle

**Challenge #13: Giggle**

**(suggested by EmoGleek)**

**[Finchel]**

The sound of her laugh echoed in his mind. It reverberated from his skull and into his brain, and he always invited it in, always willing it to stay longer, letting the light tinkling of her giggle meld into his brain until he could hear no more but her laugh in his head. He had turned it into a sort of game, seeing if he could make the laugh reverberate a whole class period. She had infected his every being.

When he began to do worse in his classes, it became a problem. He didn't know what to tell his teachers-it seemed impossible to explain. He couldn't concentrate on his work because all he could think about was the next time he would see her again. He was a senior anyway, why should he work?

"Because, _Finn, _you need to get into a good college. Preferably in New York, and you can't do that if you're distracted. What do you do in class, anyway?" He blushed, taking a new and spontaneous interest in his fingernails. She was irritated, yet playful. She could never be mad at him. "Finn?" She tapped her foot in mock anger and took his hands, covering them with hers so he wouldn't be distracted.

"Just…thinking."

"About what?"

"You." He looked her in the eye now, smiling a crooked, sheepish smile. It was her turn to blush now, and she continued to walk down the narrow, paved path they were on. His giant hand in her tiny one, she swung them, a large grin remaining on her face.

"And what is it you were thinking, Mr. Hudson? If I can get a peek into that mind of yours, that is." She had to look up when she was talking to him, and now she had moved her other hand to hold his too, leaning against his shoulder. He pulled her over to a bench and sat down, never leaving contact with her. She sat down too, intrigued.

"I was thinking about your laugh."

"My…laugh?"

"How whenever I hear your laugh I can't help but be happy. How it's so contagious, and it never fails to make me smile." Rachel was really blushing now, holding his arm and giving it a little squeeze. "But then I started thinking about other things. Like, more than just your laugh. Your smile and the way it lights up the whole room. How you walk into a room like you own it, and the way you never back down from anyone. Your eyes and the way they shine when you're really happy, and the way you look when you come in for early rehearsals before a competition; you're relaxed and in jeans, and your hair is falling in your face but you don't care because it's glee rehearsal. That's what I love most about you, the way you're always so determined to do everything. Sometimes, when I see you like that, I just keep thinking about how you can get whatever you want in this world, because you're determined and beautiful and perfect." He paused for a moment to catch his breath and wiped a tear from her eye she hadn't even realized had fallen. Gently, his hand moved under her chin and he propped her head up so he could look her in the eyes. "_That's _why I haven't been focusing." He leaned in and kissed her, and she giggled, the effervescence of young love coursing through her. They got up and continued their walk, and she couldn't help but think about damning the teachers who were yelling at Finn for not focusing. They obviously had never been in love like this before.

**Thankyouagain :) I might be posting Finchel for a while because of my renewed obsession with them. They were so adorable at the Glee concert. Seriously, the way he looks at her. Lea's so lucky!**

**Anyways, all of the fangirling is on my tumblr, because I legitimately wrote a good paragraph and a half just about Cory. Thanks for reading and reviewing! And as always, suggestions are welcome**

**-Hollywood**


	14. Flying

**Challenge #14: Flying**

**(Taken from DG Forum's 100 Day Challenge list)**

**[Finchel]**

She feels like she's flying, her stomach doing flips as a plane takes off and descends, the fiber of her every being agreeing with each other, yet disagreeing at the same time. It's like the rollercoasters she was always too short to ride-the ones with loops and twists and turns. She figures a coaster has to have a few loops to be considered a good one, and she compares this logic to her relationship with one Finn Hudson.

If she had never met Finn, if she had never gotten the pleasure to sing that first duet with him, she thinks she would die. The logic of even contemplating that idea does not agree with her, and she pushes the thought away as quickly as it entered her mind. She and Finn are soul mates. Finn is hers and she is his. That's how it has been since he first opened his mouth to sing with her.

Sure, his voice wasn't on perfect key, and it wasn't the perfect Broadway vibrato she had been dreaming of, but that's what love was, right? Something that was the least expected, the least dreamed? Anyways, she sighs when he starts to sing Grease with her, and she tries to memorize his voice. It's not perfect, but she can't picture him without it. It's rugged, rough around the edges. It has a sort of classic rock edge to it, as if it doesn't belong in this era. Whereas hers is clean and smooth, his is choppy and rough. When she first sings with him, it is a strange sensation. Their voices bounce off of each other, twisting and turning in a friendly competition. She thought they would repel; it's all her voice training has taught her, but they don't, and she's pleasantly surprised.

He's tall. She's always liked that about him too. When she first met him-like, formally met him-she was nervous. He was this big jock who was part of the crowd who liked to pick on her most. She had thought none of it could end well for her. Seeing him without his uniform made her look at him in a new light; as a guy and not some football jock who was going to hurt her. He could never hurt her, she knows that now. She loves the way he kisses her, how he's always so gentle with her. He lifts her so she's balancing on his feet, so she doesn't have to reach her neck. He tips her chin up and closes the gap; gentle, always gentle. She loves knowing that she has someone who cares about her the way he does.

At first it scared her. She had never felt anything like this. She was only sixteen when she met him, and wasn't sixteen too young to be in love like she was? She wasn't going to ask her dads; they'd probably kill Finn for existing. The only thing Rachel hated about Finn was Quinn, but he had told her many times after her that Quinn had never been a part of him the way Rachel was; the way Rachel always would be.

When she's with him, she feels like she's flying. She likes to compare it to different things, depending on the day. Today it is bungee jumping. There is the anticipation beforehand, the feeling of dread and wanting to back out from the sheer thought of what she was about to do. Then she's on the platform, arm in arm with her partner. The feeling of anticipation has risen to her stomach now, joined with a feeling of euphoria. She was actually going to do this. Then, there's the jump, and she's flying, her partner holding on to her. She's laughing and smiling, her heart racing as the wind whips through her hair. She's holding on to her partner for dear life, hoping this isn't a dream. It's her wedding day, and as she walks down the aisle as Mrs. Hudson, clinging tight to Finn's arm and looking up to see his huge smile, she's flying.

**Thanks for reading! My Finchel mood struck me again, I'll try to do another couple for variation next. Any you _really _want to see?**

**-Hollywood**


	15. Collide

**Challenge # 15: Collide**

**(Suggested by Haley Renee)**

**[Quick]**

The first time they meet they literally collide. It is middle school and she's the new girl trying to find her way around. She's still uncomfortable with her new look, unsure of what people will think of her. She fast-walks down the halls in attempts to make it to her next class, a schedule atop the pile of books she's carrying. She turns the corner rapidly and her body makes contact with another, knocking herself to the ground. She hears the other person grunt, and she can tell he's probably going to have a go at her. She begins to pick up her books hastily, and he brushes himself off.

He's a lot bigger than she is, and she notices it now more than she would have because she has just lost weight. He has brown hair cut into a faux-hawk, and he's wearing a plain t-shirt, a drawstring bag hanging from his shoulders. She looks up at him in awe and apologizes quickly, trying to finish picking her things up. He clears his throat and bends down to help her, and they get her back on her feet.

"No, it's okay. I should've watched where I was going…I'm Puck." He holds out his hand and she shakes it, feeling a bolt of electricity run through her hand as she shakes back.

"I'm Lu…-Quinn. Quinn Fabray. I'm new, if you couldn't tell." He laughs and says he can, but not to worry because she'll get used to it. His friends walk back to where he is and call him over, and he apologizes, taking one last look at her before walking over to his friends.

"Bye, Quinn. Good luck." She waves at him and watches him go, shaking her hand to get the tingling feeling out of it.

After she joins cheerleading she gets into his group of friends, making it her mission to get closer to him. There's a problem, though. One of her new best friends, Santana, has already gotten there first. They shamelessly flirt as much as a pair of sixth graders can, and Quinn tries not to be mad. After all, Santana got their first, even if Quinn knew Puck must've felt something when they shook hands that day.

His friend Finn is stupid and dorky, but it's the closest she can get. A year later she decides that he will be her new mission, since there is a seemingly never-ending relationship going on with Puck and the pretty Latina. It's an easy task, although it takes her until the eighth grade to be official with Finn. His mother won't let him really date until then, so she spends her time trying to keep herself in his mind. While doing this she looks at Puck, always at Puck. Sometimes, he even looks back, and she wonders what it would be like to date him.

Freshman year goes by in a blur, and Quinn is thrown into a whirlwind of parties and popularity she hadn't ever dreamed about. She's made the captain of the cheerleading team as a freshman, and from there she takes the reign on herself as a popular girl. With Finn as quarterback she is an absolute queen in the school, and she can't help but love the attention. But every so often she looks over at Puck and feels a pang of regret. She should be with him, not this guy she feels nothing for.

When she goes to his house by herself Sophomore year, she wants to tell him. She wants to let him know everything she's been feeling since she met him. He gets her drunk on wine coolers, and she still doesn't have the guts to tell him how she feels. She merely tells him the story of Lucy Caboosey and complains about feeling fat, and all of a sudden he takes her in, swiping her virginity right out from under her.

When she sees the words in clear letters on the test, she's scared. As much as she admires him, he's not the same person he was in middle school. He would not be a fit father, as much as the idea of having a family with him makes her heart flutter. So she tells Finn that it's his, and they begin a journey together she knows is fake. It's not about him, it's never been about him. It's always been Puck, that's why it's his baby she's carrying this young.

When he starts to offer her money and time, she can't help but imagine what would happen if she gave in to his requests. They could find somewhere to live, they could raise the baby themselves. They could be everything she imagined when she was young and naïve and not pregnant. But it's not about him anymore, it's about the picture from the sonogram she keeps under her pillow. It's about the little boy or girl she's carrying at that very moment, and she has to do what's best for it.

She's crying when she sees Beth for the first time. He's next to her, and his eyes aren't dry either. They each get to hold her before they have to say goodbye for the last time, so they ask for a moment alone. When they look at her through the glass window, she asks him if he ever loved her. He looks at her, eyes filled with something she does not recognize. He smiles and grabs hold of her hand.

"Yes, especially now."

Years go by and their relationship-or lack thereof- is rocky. Santana is still his friend with benefits, and Quinn is forced to find out where she fits in in a world of lies and confusion. She goes back to Finn because it's comfortable, and she remembers everything Puck ever did for her. When she hugs Finn she imagines Puck's arms and his soft cologne seeping into her clothes. She knows it's wrong, but she just wants him back.

Two years later they're invited to see Beth. On the way there it is silent, only the sound of the tires on pavement to hang on to.

"I remember when I held her. She was so small, so perfect. Do you ever regret giving her away?" He asks her this honestly. His voice is quiet, and he swallows back a lump in his throat as he remembers seeing Shelby hold Beth for the first time. She didn't fit in Shelby's arms the way she fit in theirs. It wasn't right to him.

"Every day. I think about what it would be like if…"

"What?"

"If we had gotten a chance to raise her ourselves. It's stupid, I know. You have your ways and it's impossible to verge from them." He's startled at the icy tone of her voice, and when he tries to put his hand on hers she pulls away, turning toward the window.

"What do you mean I 'have my ways?" She turns violently toward him, her voice raising.

"You know exactly what I mean, _Noah._" she spits his name out venomously, hot tears running down her rosy cheeks and ruining her makeup. "You always have to have your little trysts and your one night stands and your lesbian _fuck buddy_. There was never any room for me in your life, let alone a little girl. You know that." He is silent, unsure of what to say. Had she really felt that way about him all this time?

"…That's not true."

"_Yes it is!_ And it kills me inside to even think it but I know you, Puck. I've known you since we were twelve. You have your ways and you're not going to change." He pulls the car over now-they're early anyway-and turns to face her. He grabs her arms and she tenses, keeping them close to her body. She tries to shut him our but it's no use; he's not letting go. He makes sure she's looking at him, and then he responds, voice quiet and gentle.

"You don't know that, Quinn. When I met you I wanted to do something about what I felt, but I was nervous. You were so beautiful and quiet and I was just some wanna-be punk ass kid who was up to no good. I've wanted to say something to you from the day I met you, but I was too scared. I kept up the charade because you were with Finn, and you were too good for me. I never wanted anything to happen to you. The night you got pregnant was real for me. It would've been real even if I hadn't gotten you drunk on wine coolers, because even then I loved you."

"Do you…still love me?"

"Of course I do. I'm just too much of an ass to admit it because it _scares me_. I feel all of these things whenever I see you and it scares me to depend on someone as much as I depend on you. Even though we never dated, you were still my whole world. I love you, Lucy." He smiles a tentative smile and wipes away her tears, and she falls into his arms. He hugs her and rocks her back and forth, and she leans up to whisper in his ear.

"I love you too."

**I'm in such a Dianna appreciation mood right now. If you haven't seen what she did at the concert in Toronto last night or read her blog, go right now. It's her tumblr, just google Dianna Agron tumblr. I seriously admire her so much, she is such an inspiration. Haters will be haters, but regardless of what they say Dianna is such an amazing person.**

**Anyways, sorry about the rant, I just had to get that out. Suggestions and reviews are loved, and so are you guys!**

**-Hollywood**


	16. Dork

**Challenge #15: Dork**

**(Sorry to whoever may have suggested this word, your name must've gotten lost in my four page prompt document. Credit goes to whoever it is, I couldn't fin your name, sorry!)**

**[Quam...? Quinn/Sam]**

He was always _that kid. _The one people whispered about in the locker rooms, the one they laughed at as he walked by. He used to be the subject of taunting notes passed around the classroom. The notes would reach everyone but him.

He was small and scrawny, sporting glasses and the same haircut he had been since second grade. He wore his character tees tucked into belted khakis that went down to his father's old loafers. He was awkward, he was different, and they didn't like it. He talked about school and cartoons when they talked about sports and girls. He just wasn't like them, although he envied them. They got all the girls, all of the good seats in the cafeteria. He only got good seats at honors awards nights, where he was one in a crowd of ten.

He was proud of his grades, but he was lonely. In middle school, when his peers had already begun to date, he had not. He was too small, too scrawny. All he had ever wanted was a Southern belle, one he could treat as a girl should be treated, one he would cherish as a Southern gentleman should. All he ever wanted was someone who would love him back, but try as he may there was always someone better, someone stronger, and he was alone once again.

When his father had told his family they were moving, he took it as an opportunity to have a clean slate. This would be good for him, he could be the person he had always aspired to be. So he started going to the gym, attempting to get some sort of muscle before they were off. Luck struck him and he hit another growth spurt that summer, shooting up like a 'firework buried by a groundhog,' according to his mother. He lightened his hair and made a mental promise to himself that midtown Ohio would never be the same. He would never hear the jeering calls of 'dork' ever again.

School had become a whirlwind. He was still adjusting to the new teachers, and to catching up on the things he had missed. He had been made quarterback of the football team and was now seeing an amount of girls he had only ever dreamed about. He was popular, just as he had always wanted. Sometimes, though, he would let his inner dork out, saying a quick phrase in Na'vi or throwing out the Spock sign instead of a peace sign. Popularity hadn't changed that part of Sam, and he was determined to keep it that way.

He was still looking for his Southern belle, although he realized the Southern part would be difficult. Sure, he had gotten plenty of offers since he arrived, but none of them were looking for what he wanted. He was shocked at some of the messages he would get. He was a Southern gentleman, not willing to take advantage of anyone. He was pretty sure he was the only guy on the football team looking for a long-term relationship, and that scared him. Out of all of the girls who wanted to be with him, he only saw one.

She was pretty and dainty, with blonde hair and a perfect figure to match. She wore a cross on a chain around her neck, her dresses flowing to her knee, and pretty cardigans covering her shoulders. She wasn't Southern, but she was perfect. But he had been told that she had a past. She was the resident pregnant teen, the one that everyone whispered about behind her back. They had all abandoned her when she needed them the most. Now, she was a dork; but he didn't think that at all. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

He started talking to her because he wanted to get to know her. He wanted to be her friend, he wanted to work his way to a relationship. But she was with the ex-quarterback and then quarterback again Finn, the one who had shown him the ropes when he first came to McKinley. He couldn't even try to take someone's girlfriend, especially someone who had been so nice to him. He waited, and then he finally got his chance. He took her out, he held the door open for her, and he carried her books. They swung their clasped hands when they walked down the hallways and they acted cutesy in public. This relationship was everything Sam had ever dreamed of, with the girl of his dreams. They were Quinn and Sam, Barbie and Quinn, and Sam never wanted it to end.

He knew she was cheating when she couldn't look at him when he talked to her. He knew she was lying when she became uncomfortable with him carrying her books and holding doors open for her. Before she would blush and thank him, now she would wait for him to walk through, saying she could do it herself. His dream was over, and she was back to Finn again, and he had never been so upset. This was a fate worse than the torment he had faced through his early school years. The other torment didn't break his heart as much.

He didn't really know where he was supposed to go from where he was at that moment. There was confusion, and he watched Quinn walk down the halls along with Finn with a look of complete torment etched permanently on his face. He thought he would never come out of his torment.

Mercedes was nice. A little outspoken, but nice. He went with her and Rachel to prom, and he ended up really talking to her more than Rachel. She was smart, and she was really into Broadway, a topic he didn't know much about. He knew she wasn't his Southern belle, but he had to get over Quinn. It was for the best. But his thing with Mercedes didn't last long, and they parted ways as friends, both realizing that they were looking for something different.

Quinn had confronted him two months after nationals, one lazy summer day when rain fell from the sky in an irregular rhythm and humidity had hit a dramatic high. He opened the door of his new home to a soaking blonde, hair plastered to her face, broken umbrella dangling from her lazy grip.

"I don't know what I'm doing here. Well, I do, but-"

"Come in." He opened the door to let her in and told her to wait in the hallway. He came back with a fresh towel and a cup of mango tea, her favorite. He hadn't stopped his habit of buying it after they broke up. He didn't know why, it was just something he couldn't let go, like an old stuffed animal or a birthday card from a long-forgotten friend. She sat carefully on the couch next to him and tried her best to dry her hair off, but to no avail. She threw it up into a hasty bun and sipped on her tea again, trying to fill the gap of silence and buy herself some time before she had to give her little speech. There was no way he was going to listen in her mind. "So…what's up?"

"Well, it's sort of a long story, but not really. I just wanted to apologize."

"For what?"

"For…everything. I shouldn't have cheated on you. You were so perfect to me, and I took that for granted. I regret that decision every day. I just hope you can forgive me." She looked down in guilt, tracing her finger along the hem of her sopping wet shirt and pulling the towel closer around her.

"I'll be honest, what you did really hurt me. I had no idea what to do with myself for so long after we broke up. I never _wanted_ to break up, but we kind of had to, didn't we?" She nodded and hiccupped, caused half way by the tea and the other by the hot tears that melded with her rain-stained face. "I didn't know if I could forgive you, but it's just one of those things…it's hard to forgive the person you love, but you have to if you want to move forward with them."

"Do you…do you _want_ to move forward?"

"I do. Do you?"

"…Yeah." He wrapped her in a hug, her small frame fitting in his built arms perfectly. He tugged on the towel and she opened her arms, making room for him. He wrapped the now damp towel around them and melted into the hug. He was ready to move on, ready to be Barbie and Ken again.

**For some reason I was in a random Quinn/Sam mood in school today, so this is what came out of my study period. **

**Reviews and suggestions are loved as always! Thank you all!**

**-Hollywood**


	17. Silence

**Drabble #17: Silence**

**(Taken from DGForum's 100 day challenge)**

**[Brittana]**

They had never let the silence bother them. Silence was a precious thing, something they could come by rarely and never hold on to for long. Silence could be fast and fleeting, or long and beautiful. They depended on silence.

She lived in Lima Heights Adjacent, one of the worst parts of town. She had to lock the doors at night, and she kept a sharp silver knife in the drawer of her bedside table. Santana lived in a part of town where nobody trusted themselves; let alone each other. She would lie awake on hot summer nights, when their A/Cs were broken and muggy air blew through her window, listening to the commotion outside of the walls of her small bedroom. Sometimes it was fighting, others gunshots. She would lie awake and wonder if her parents were going to come home that night. She was used to falling asleep waiting.

Brittany lived in a fortunate part of town, with white picket fences and children playing in the freshly cut grass of their perfectly kempt yards. It was a pretty picture to look at-the seemingly perfect suburban life-but it was too silent. An hour after she got home from school, Brittany would go pick up her little sister from hers. They didn't talk to the kids in their neighborhood, and the kids didn't talk to them. In a perfect world the would walk home in a pack of laughing school aged kids. In a perfect world they would have bonfires and block parties. The perfect world would not be as silent as Brittany's picturesque suburban neighborhood. Silence kept Brittany tossing and turning after her sister was tucked into bed, until she herself was lulled to sleep by her mother's key in the door. She would always wake up to the sound of her mother's crying as her father broke her heart again. She prayed for silence.

When they were together, silence was comfort. In silence they did not have to talk about their feelings, or what would come next. In silence their breathing became a perfect rhythmic match, and they listened to each other's hearts beat as they forgot everything else.

Sometimes, though, silence could be agonizing. Silence came often when Santana put up her walls, unwilling to speak anymore. Silence came when Brittany stopped trying to coax her into speaking and turned away, dejected. With this silence came apologetic looks as they locked eyes, their problems solved with and through the silence itself.

Silence was agonizing when bubbly Brittany accepted it, letting it devour her every being until she was no longer herself. Her silence was usually accompanied with the release of emotions caused by things she had been holding in so long that she would forget exactly what it was that bothered her. Her silence was the worst, Santana thought, because it came with a face that could break the coldest of hearts. Brittany's eyes would well with tears, and she would try to hold them back in a struggle of furious blinking. Red hues would cover her peach-toned skin and she would purse her lips and lock down, tensing and letting her long blonde hair become a curtain covering her humility. When Brittany would feel her touch, gentle against her shaking shoulders, she would release, and the silence would be broken.

Santana knew everything would be alright in this moment, so full of noise yet so peaceful. It was strange, feeling so free while the walls of her bedroom echoed with noise. Sometimes, they would be talking; others laughing and dancing. It was the rare moment of silence she loved the most, when they could lie awake on her bedroom floor, attempting to escape the lazy summer's heat, and talk. This sort of silence was never fleeting, and it was complete peace.

**Just as an update, I'm in the middle of finals, so updates might be slow. But Tuesday's my last day, and then a whole summer of updates to fill your Glee gaps!**

**Thanks again to all of the reviewers, I love hearing what you have to say :) Suggestions are always welcome.**

**-Hollywood**


	18. Corner

**Prompt #18: Corner**

**(Taken DGForum's 100 day challenge, because apparently those are all I wrote in my notebook for school. I'll be getting back to yours soon!)**

**[Future Finchel]**

She held the thick marker in her small hands, humming to herself as she completed her masterpiece. When she was done she stepped back from her place to admire her work, contemplating whether or not she thought she was done. She dropped the light blue marker on the carpet and picked up a pink one, spotting around her picture. Her dotting made little knocking noises on the wall that could be heard throughout the house.

Rachel, who had been making lunch at the time, was the first to hear the knocking. At first she thought it was a mouse, but it was knocking, not scratching. She crept along the walls, keeping her head near them so she could focus on the noise. From the kitchen she moved up the stairs, the little knocking becoming noisier. When she turned the corner she gasped, unsure of what to think.

A little girl no older than two years old was focused on the wall, moving her marker along it. She hadn't noticed her mother's presence. Her wavy brown hair was pulled into pigtails on the top of her head, and her little pink tutu was smeared with marker. She hummed to herself while she worked, tiny feet in ballet shoes moving to tiptoe position to reach a place at the top of her picture. Her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated.

"Stella Marie!" Rachel moved from her place at the top of the stairs and the little girl's eyes widened. "What are you doing missy?"

The little girl dropped her marker immediately, a look of guilt spread across her face. She didn't like Rachel's stern tone. She talked in broken toddler language, gesturing to her drawing on the wall. "Picture, mommy!"

"I know, honey, but I keep telling you not to do that, remember?" The little girl nodded and looked down, concentrating on the markers that she had cast all over the carpet. "Do you remember what I said would happen if you did it again?" Stella didn't answer this time, but Rachel could tell she knew what was about to happen. "You need to go to time out."

Their designated time out space had been set as a corner in the kitchen, where Rachel had lain a fuzzy, pink, circular rug. Stella knew where it was, although she did not get in trouble often. It was a dreaded spot, especially for her. She hated sitting and waiting, even as young as she was she knew what disappointment looked like. But she went to the corner and sat, tears making little pools and daring to escape from her big brown eyes. She grabbed a piece of fuzz from the carpet and twirled it in her hands, looking down at the floor.

Finn came home for lunch shortly after this incident. Dropping his bag on the floor, he called out for his girls and plopped down on the couch in the living room, sighing as he removed his shoes. Rachel called to him from the kitchen to welcome him home and to say that lunch was ready, and when he came in she was bent down near the dreaded corner, giving the after time out lecture. When she was done Stella hugged her and then ran over to Finn, tackling his leg and smiling up at him. They ate lunch with small talk, and then Stella began to drag him to her room, wanting to play. He told her to wait a minute and walked back to the kitchen, where Rachel was wiping down the table and high chair.

"…Rach?" He was timid, not really sure how he was going to say what he wanted to.

"What?" She paused from her work and looked up. As soon as she saw the look on his face she threw the sponge on the table and sat down at a chair, looking up at his forlorn face with concern. "Finn what's wrong?"

"I just…is there any other way to punish Stella?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like…instead of putting her in the corner. I just hate seeing her so upset. I came in and she looked so heartbroken, it made me want to cry."

"Finn, you know she has to be punished, she'll never learn if she's not."

"I know, but I just hate it. I hate how one of us always has to be the bad guy." She let a small smile form on her lips and she got up from her chair, taking his hand.

"Listen, I know she's your little girl but this is good for her. Besides, she'll love us regardless. I can't imagine you weren't ever put in time out, you were a trouble maker, weren't you?" His smile was crooked, his eyes sparkling with guilt and humor.

"Of course I was a trouble maker. Puck was my best friend, we got into all sorts of trouble together. Even before that, I used to give my mother so much trouble."

"And she still loved you and tucked you in at night and made your lunch for school?"

"Peanut butter and jelly without the crust." He licked his lips and she laughed, playfully smacking him on the arm. He grabbed her then, flinging her over his shoulder and throwing her on the couch. They always knew how to cheer each other up, and when the walls were clean again they played dolls with Stella, their conflict resolved. They tucked her in at night and told her they loved her, and the next day Rachel made her Peanut butter and jelly for lunch, cutting the crusts off and smiling to herself.

**Thanks for reading :) Reviews are loved! **

**-Hollywood**


	19. Father

**Challenge #19: Father**

**(Brought on by father's day)**

**[Mentions of Quick]**

Finn's was no longer around. Every father's day he remembers going to the place where his father lay, buried in the ground. He is strong-he has to be. His mother takes time to herself to let herself cry, standing over the stone and planting flowers in the grass beside it. When he was really young he never really understood this. Everyone else had a father, everyone else was having cookouts and playing baseball with their dads in their backyards. Why couldn't he have the same? Later on Finn learned that he had been selfish. His father was respectable, he had died for his country. If anything, Finn was proud of the father he had never met. He died an honorable death so Finn could live in peace. He had never known him, but on days like this he often wished he could meet the man that had given so much for him. He wanted to hug him, to play baseball with him and help him cook hotdogs and burgers on the grill. Most of all, though, he wanted to thank him.

Father's day should have been a finicky holiday for Rachel. She had two dads; shouldn't that make her life that much harder? She never thought of it that way. Her fathers had always celebrated their day together, doing things they both wanted to do and sharing the spotlight with each other without a second thought. As their daughter Rachel had always tried to make the day twice as special for them, which usually involved streamers, balloons, and mixed tapes of songs with words relating to dad in them. She always made sure everything was to their liking-she liked making other people happy, contrary to popular belief. The only problem with father's day was the looks they got when they went out to eat, two men and their daughter. They had learned to ignore it after a while. Besides, Rachel thought her dads were the best, and that's all that mattered to her.

To Kurt, father's day was just another way he could say he absolutely loved his father. Ever since his mother died, Burt Hummel was absolutely dedicated to his son and everything about him. Burt spent every day with all of his focus set on Kurt; on his needs, his comfort, his moods. Kurt used father's day to give his dad a day that was completely about him. Father's day for Kurt was about focusing on his father-his needs, his comfort, his moods-just as his father did for him every day. Kurt would help him around the shop, wearing oil-stained blue coveralls and letting himself get dirty for the sake of his father. He had been there through everything, after all. The taunting, the jeers, the slushies…everything. Being a walking fashion disaster was Kurt's special way of saying he cared, and Burt appreciated every second of it.

Sam's father was trying. He had been laid off two months ago and they were just now starting to get back on their feet. He got a new job, and their mother picked up extra hours. Sam got a job for his father, working nights at a local burger joint to help pay the bills. For him, this was the least he could do. They had never been a rich family, but Sam's father had always made sure that he and his brother and sister were taken care of before himself. It was his job now to repay him for all he had done. He used father's day to help his siblings make cards and little homemade presents for their father, and then he took them out and used his paycheck to get him a new Cleveland Indians shirt. He taught his siblings to appreciate their father because even they weren't rich or even upper middle class, at least he was trying.

Quinn surprised an unexpected person that father's day. She and her own father hadn't been getting along since the whole baby thing, so she took a ride over to Shelby's house. They had been emailing back and forth for a while, and Quinn had been practically begging Shelby to let her take Beth out. Finally, she agreed, and Quinn drove over in excitement, thinking about the daughter she gave up. Would she look more like her or Puck? Would Puck be happy to see her? Would he even know who she was?

She pulled up to Shelby's house right when Beth was getting up from her nap, so Shelby let them get acquainted before she left. Quinn was unsure of herself at first, hesitantly wrapping her arms around the baby in support. Then, Beth's big blue eyes opened and she smiled as she yawned and settled into her biological mother's hold. It was a moment of absolute peace. Quinn put the baby in her car seat, eager to see Puck. She had called him earlier and told him that she wanted to see him today and he agreed, inviting her over to his house. He was having a barbeque with his dad, and then they had the rest of the afternoon free to do whatever they wanted. She didn't tell him she was bringing Beth; she didn't want him to run off. He was waiting for her in the driveway when she pulled up and he opened her door for her in a gentlemanly matter that was unlike his usual self. He moved to hug her in greeting but stopped when he saw that she was opening the back door. She poked her head in and cooed, bending over and talking to what he thought was herself. Curious, he poked his head into the door to find a baby in a car seat. He knew automatically who she was.

She had Quinn's button nose and Puck's dark peach fuzz, and she sat in the seat calmly while Quinn struggled to detach it from her car. Puck leaned in to help her, unbuckling it with ease and slipping the handle of the carrier under his arm, stroking his daughter's head.

"I practiced a lot when I found out. I had it down to a science." Quinn smiled and nodded, unsure of what to say. Seeing him so calm with Beth made her regret her decision even more. "Well, at least we get to spend father's day together, huh cutie?" He put her carrier down on the front porch and lifted her out of it like a seasoned pro, cradling her head in the right spot and snuggling up to her. Quinn stood beside him, playing with Beth's tiny feet and tickling her stomach. It would have been perfect if it could've lasted.

"Happy father's day, Puck." She said, hugging their daughter in between them.

"Happy father's day."

**Happy father's day to everybody out there :) Hope you guys had a good day!**

**Reviews/suggestions are loved, and updates will come more frequently once I'm done with finals. Only three more to go! **

**Love you all!**

**-Hollywood**


	20. Mutual

**Challenge #20: Mutual**

**(Suggested by ADreamerInAWorldOfRealists)**

**[Brittana]**

There was something about their relationship they both just understood. They didn't speak often about their feelings-it was sort of a part of their relationship-but they both knew everything about each other. They had been best friends since they were in kindergarten, so they had a sort of connection that was different than everyone else's. One look and the one could tell exactly what the other was feeling. It was scary having someone know so much about you.

Santana was used to having her little walls. She didn't like to let people in; so many people had hurt her already. She would grin and bear her feelings, keeping them to herself until she was alone. When people would try to break her walls they only got stronger, until the once flimsy cardboard walls had transformed into brick, almost impossible to break. Brittany could break those walls with one look. She could see through them like plastic, an ability she held with nobody else. It scared Santana to no end, having someone read her thoughts like an open book. Especially since most of her thoughts were about Brittany.

Everyone always thought Brittany was easy to read, mainly because they also thought she was imprudent. She wasn't though. She had layers. She wasn't smart in school, that much she would agree with. There were some things she didn't get, like math and science, but she figured none of that would matter in the long run anyway. Contrary to everyone else's beliefs, she thought she was pretty smart. She kept up a front to hide her feelings, being perky and bubbly and idiotic to hide who she really was. She tried not to care what people thought, but she knew they would talk. She imagined the slushies, the extra attention by bullies she had once been friends with. She imagined Kurt and Blaine and what they had to go through their first few months as a couple at McKinley, even with Santana and Dave helping them out as the Bully Whips. It wasn't the life she envisioned, but it would be worth it.

A long time ago they had made a mutual agreement that their relationship was nothing, just fooling around. A long time ago the only mutual thing about that agreement was that they both disagreed with it, and that still rang true. Both were just too nervous to say anything, thinking the other had really meant what they had said when they agreed that they were just fooling around. Sure, they had told the other they loved them, but there was still a boundary they were trying to keep. Since they didn't think their real feelings were mutual, they didn't talk about it. Neither girl wanted to be embarrassed by being shot down. They had both had plenty of that in their lives.

One day, when it was winter and they were shut in Brittany's basement trying to keep warm, they broke their pact. The power had gone out, and they were wrapped in piles of blankets in attempt to keep the heat in their bodies. It was quiet for a while, and they noticed it increasingly because the TV had just shut off. For a while it stayed that way, both unsure of what to do next. Then, Brittany rolled over to her side and propped her head on her elbow, letting her long blonde hair fall in disarray around her face.

"Tana?"

"What?" She rolled over to her side too, and began playing with the blanket that was closest to her.

"What are we?" She was hesitant, and Santana could tell she was nervous by the way she played with her hair. Her voice sounded younger, like she was a child asking her mother a difficult question.

"What do you mean?"

"Like…in our relationship. What are we?"

"I didn't think we had to be anything." Brittany sat up immediately, throwing the blankets off of her lap and turning to face Santana.

"Why do you always do this to me?"

"Do what?"

"Act like you don't care about me. About _us._ You should know by now that I know you better than this, Santana." Santana sat up now but wrapped the blankets farther around her, curling her knees to her chin. Her voice was soft in comparison to Brittany's outburst, and she avoided eye contact with her laboriously.

"I know, Brit. It's just hard."

"_What's _hard?"

"This. Sitting here like we used to when we were little and nothing mattered and we could just hang out with people assuming things. When I didn't think of every little thing you said to me and tried to analyze it to see if you felt the same way I did. When I didn't have to worry if you loved me the way I loved you. Remember the agreement we made?" Brittany nodded her head and scooted back on the couch, leaning on Santana's shoulder and playing with her black hair. She knew it relaxed her. "I never meant any word of it."

"Then why did you ask us to make it?"

"I was scared, okay? I didn't know what to do about any of it. This is all too new to me. I didn't want you to run away, not when I could pretend we were dating when we were just hanging out, or when we were fooling around. Because that meant something to me, even if I was too afraid to admit it myself." Brittany didn't know what to say, so she leaned over and wrapped her arms around Santana, pulling on the blankets so she could be warm again. Santana unwrapped herself from them and let Brittany in, both into the blankets, and into her wall. There was a mutual feeling here, and for once it wasn't regret.

**So this one took me a lot longer than the others have, but I'm really happy with the result. I blame whoever first told me to write Brittana for this, because now I'm sort of hooked! Anyways, expect updates more often (hopefully!) because now I'm officially on summer break! **

**Reviews and suggestions are loved, and seriously thank you guys. All of your comments and words have inspired me so much.**

**-Hollywood**


	21. Practical Jokes

**Challenge #21: Practical Jokes**

**(Suggested by Boris Yeltsin)**

**[Kurt/Rachel friendship]**

Kurt had always been a fan of practical jokes. Many would think he would say they were juvenile, but they were clearly wrong. For him it was just one of those things, something that seemed like it wouldn't mesh but fit perfectly into his personality. There were a select few people that knew about his secret love, mainly people who had fallen victim to his little jokes. When he was younger, it used to be gags he found in magazines or on the TV. As he got older, he got more creative with them, and he let his imagination expand to endless bounds whenever he got the chance to prank someone.

Rachel found out about this love even before she became friends with Kurt. As his new stepbrother, Finn had become the ideal target. Besides, Kurt figured he wasn't quick-witted enough to find out it was him anyway. Finn would always complain to Rachel about the pranks, saying they were childish and annoying, and asking her to help him find ways to get back at Kurt. She could tell he secretly took pride in the newfound prank war, though, and helped him as much as she could. When she and Kurt became friends, though, things got a little more complicated.

"You need to help me figure out a way to get back at Finn." Kurt was pacing around her room in a state of panic. He fixed his already perfect hair and sighed, collapsing on her floor in a state of defeat.

"What's going on with you two now?"

"Still the same old prank war. But he's getting better and it's making me nervous. I need to have the last word in this, Rachel. It's all I've got to entertain myself now that Blaine's on vacation and Project Runway is over." Rachel bit her lip and didn't respond, laying back on her bed and looking up at the ceiling. "Rachel, is there something you need to tell me?"

"Well…" She sat up now, and Kurt sat next to her. "I've sort of been helping Finn with the pranks. But in my defense I didn't know they were against you at first. He was just so upset and needed a confidence boost. He's not the most self-confident person, you know."

"Rachel!"

"What?"

"I can't even believe this right now. You can't be best friends with me and dating my step brother while choosing sides in our prank war." He was a bit angrier than he should've been, but he composed himself and kept the volume down. It wasn't Rachel's fault anyway, really. She was just trying to help Finn. It pleased Kurt to know that Finn hadn't just grown suddenly clever. If he could pull Rachel away from aiding Finn, he would win for sure.

It turns out that Kurt never really needed to stop Rachel from helping Finn. He didn't know much about their breakup because Finn refused to talk about it and Rachel wouldn't stop crying long enough for him to get the whole story. Rachel was still Kurt's friend though, but she would only go to Kurt's when Finn wasn't there. It was too hard for her to walk by Finn's room when she knew Quinn could be there with him.

It was early spring the day Kurt got Rachel in on the fun. They were sitting in the kitchen on a chilly Saturday morning, drinking coffee and watching YouTube videos of their favorite Broadway idols, when they heard his car pull into the driveway. He came into the house with his usual wide gait, but it was accompanied by a smaller one. The blonde was attached to his arm and laughing, and as they passed the two in the kitchen she shot the tiny brunette a malicious look as Finn led her up the stairs, avoiding eye contact with either of them. Kurt put his arm gently on her shoulder and she looked up at him, brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Hidden in them were something else, and she wiped them fiercely and ran into the living room, returning with a pad of paper and two pens. She sat back down at the island and moved their stuff to clear room for the paper.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to help you get Finn back in the worst way possible." Kurt smirked and patted her on the shoulder, grabbing the extra pen from her grasp.

"That's my girl." Rachel laughed and began talking a mile a minute, smiling whenever she'd come up with something new. Kurt really did know how to make her feel better.

**As usual, reviews and suggestions are loved, and thank all of you who have been reviewing and sending me nice thoughts through all of this. Oh, and welcome to all of the new followers of this little drabble adventure. Nice to have you guys supporting these random little things that come from my mind. Sending you all nice thoughts! :)**

**-Hollywood**


	22. Windy

**Challenge #22: Windy**

**(Suggested by EmoGleek)**

**[Eventually Quinn/Sam]**

Quinn had mixed feelings about windy days. She didn't have a real reason; she had seen both sides of her mood spectrum with days filled with wind. When she was little and her parents still talked to each other they would take her and her older sister to the park, where they would fly kites and try to play Frisbee to no avail-the wind was too strong. She didn't mind, though. They had picnics and tethered their blanket to the grass with rocks she and her sister hand painted on a rainy day, when there was nothing else to do. They ate sandwiches and juice and her mother had even made homemade cookies. She likes windy days because they remind her of her childhood, of the family they had once been.

She hates windy days because of all of the terrible things she had witnessed on them. When she was ten and her sister was sixteen, she went mini golfing on a windy day with her then best friend, Amelia. She and Amelia laughed all day as their brightly colored balls scooted around the course with the wind's wishes, and cheered when the wind granted Amelia's mother a hole in one. They were at the seventeenth hole when it happened. Amelia's mom got a phone call, and the girls finished putting while she talked. After she was done and they walked to the second hole, Quinn noticed a difference in Amelia's mother. Her knuckles were white, and she was shaking as she lined up her club with her bright blue ball. It took her seven hits to get the ball in that last hole, while it only took the girls three. Quinn knew something was up when they skipped getting ice cream at the end of the match. They never skipped ice cream.

"Mom, you forgot ice cream." Amelia prodded, grabbing her mom's arm.

"We're not going today, Amelia." Her tone was stern yet wavering, and the girls hung back and looked at each other in shock. They sat in silence the whole car ride home. Amelia's mother walked Quinn to the door, where she was met by her own. Her mother was teary-eyed, and took Quinn's hand from the other mother's. They talked in hushed tones for a while, and then Quinn's mother led her to their living room, where the light was off and the TV was on mute, some daytime soap playing in the background. Her sister lay on the couch, her neck in a brace. She was covered in cuts and bruises, her sandy blonde hair discolored as well as her tan skin. Quinn was unsure of what to do, torn between crying and asking a million questions. Instead, she watched as her injured sister slept, tuning out the sound of her mother's voice as she explained everything; _wind, trash, windshield, coma, permanent damage._ She didn't want to think about what the wind had done to the sister she looked up to so greatly.

To her the wind held mystery, all of the cold air gathered into one gust of air on an extremely hot day, whipping around her hair to a point where she would laugh and let it be. To her the wind was free, something nobody could capture, nobody could try to shape into something it didn't want to be. It could turn nasty, forming into cones that ripped through towns and dealt mass destruction. With all of the bad the wind could do, it could also do good. That's what she loved most, the fact that it could always turn itself around in her eyes. It was everything she wanted to be. The wind meant hyper spring days full of sailboat races both real and plastic, of yard work and gardening and swinging on the swings in the park. The best days for her were windy ones, when she could see families playing together in their yards, too good a day to pass up sitting inside.

The swaying of the wind brought comfort to her when she was alone. When she sat outside she let the wind wrap itself around her, let it consume her like a blanket. With the wind around her she felt the presence of people she had long lost; her grandmother with her short silver hair and adorable old lady smile, her uncle and his stern military haircut playing cards with her and her cousin when the power went out. Inside, as the wind rapped against the house and she was alone, she could close her eyes and pretend. That knocking of a branch could be her sister finally coming home to visit, the constant tapping against the side of the house could be the patter of her daughter's tiny footsteps as she ran to Quinn's room, crying about the storm. She could hold her and tell her everything was ok when she knew it wasn't, because she knew Beth was with Shelby, and that her sister was never coming home-her fight with mom had almost been as serious as Quinn's. But with the wind, she could pretend, and that was as close as she could get to perfect.

Quinn couldn't help but love the wind, though. Through everything she had seen, her fondest memories came with the wind. The day she met Sam, her hat blowing right into his unknowing grasp when she bumped into him and he caught her. He accepted her hurried apology with a tinge of his southern drawl and winked, plopping the hat back on her head and going on his merry way. One of their many kisses, when the unruly wind practically shoved them against each other, their identical hair blowing into each other's faces, creating a shield from the rest of the world. A summer day when they rode to the beach with the top of her convertible down, hair blowing in the wind that carried their untamed singing, perfect harmony as their voices twirled and danced around each other. The best windy day, though, was the day he proposed, the playful wind sweeping the ring right from his grasp as they laughed, chasing it as it rolled through the grass and she replied "Yes" a million times through her soft giggling. When they finally caught it her lips found his before he could even put the ring on, and the wind swept around them in joy.

**I _will _do a follow up to the Kurt/Rachel friendsip fic, but I didn't want contintuity in here at first so I'll have to think about how I'm going to work it out. It'll probably end up being a later chapter in this collection though so keep a look out for it.**

**I've just been in a very Fabrevens/Quam/Overgron mood lately, so hopefully this cured it so we have diversity chapter to chapter.**

**Thanks again, reviews and suggestions are loved :)**

**-Hollywood**


	23. Machine

**Challenge # 23: Machine**

**(Suggested by ADreamerInAWorldOfRealists)**

**[Future (ish) Finchel]**

"Um….hi. It's me. I didn't expect to get voicemail again…I really need to talk to you, Rach. Things haven't been the same, and we both know it. So…call me back if you feel like it. Um…bye." The phone beeped and Rachel slammed it back onto the receiver with angry gusto, storming away from it in a fashion she knew so well, a practiced veteran over the years. She wasn't ready to face him. As she walked away it continued to talk, announcing another missed call from the same number a day later.

"Me again. Listen, I don't know what happened, and I don't know what I did, but just hear me out. I need to talk to you in person, it's important. I know you, Rach. I know you still have feelings for me as much as I have feelings for you. _Please_ call back. I love you." The phone beeped again and Rachel groaned in frustration, pacing around the kitchen. She started making her dinner, throwing random bits of food into the pan on the stove in organized chaos. Her mind was going one thousand miles a minute, and she paused as she heard the lace of desperation in his last words. _No._ She thought, _I won't let him go through this. He doesn't deserve to go through this_ The phone announced another message, the day after the one she had just listened to, and she sighed, pulling her long brown hair away from her face and shifting the vegetables around the pan as it sizzled.

"Rachel, _please._ You can't ignore me forever. If there's one thing I learned from you, it's that you have to go after the things you want, the things you love. You have to at least give me the fact that we ended on a really bad note. It shouldn't have ended like that, not something as great as we had-as we _have._ Just meet me at our usual spot and tell me what went wrong. At least give me that." There was a pause, and she thought the string of messages had finally ended, but there hadn't been a beep. There was sniffling, and then a quiet voice from the machine. "I love you. So much." Silent tears fell from her eyes and into the pan she was cooking on, mixing in with the juices of her stir fry until her vision was clouded with smoke and salt water, until she had lost the difference.

Hearing those three words laced with so much passion, so much love, brought everything she had tried to forget right back to her. She cried for him, for what she had done. Rachel took the pan off of the stove and set it on an empty burner. She tried to cross to the small living room in her apartment, but her vision blurred everything that had become so familiar to her. Instead, she leaned on the counter for support and cried, trying to let everything out. She fell asleep late that night, laying on his side of what had become their bed in her tiny apartment, breathing in the scent he had left on the pillow and mixing it with her tears. This man had followed her to the city, telling her he would follow her anywhere she wanted to go. He had given up life in a small, comfortable town with his newly joined family to be with her. Now, she thought, he was stuck in a city he probably no longer wanted to be in, sleeping in a hotel on the other side of Manhattan without her.

She didn't want to meet him. The teenage side of her told herself that she could shake it off, that she could wake up and everything would be normal again. The adult side of her knew better. She couldn't make everything better by waking up, because this wasn't a dream. She was living in a horrible nightmare of mixed feelings and loneliness, and as much as she wanted him around she wasn't going to ruin his life. He deserved more than that-more than her.

She gathered up the courage to meet him the next day, and he ran from his seat in the old café to greet her. Gathering his courage, he pulled her into his warm embrace. Feeling the weight of her body pressed against his, smelling the familiar scent of the years she spent with him, she didn't try to hide anymore. She broke down right there in the middle of the quaint café in New York City, in front of the busy city life hustling and bustling to wherever they wanted to go. He felt her shaking and was shocked, but then held her tighter, whispering words of comfort into her ear and brushing her damp hair from her face. He let her cry until she couldn't any longer, run out of tears but still shaky, and then let her go, holding her at arms length and looking in her bloodshot eyes. She was shaking her head, whispering something over and over again. He cocked his head and asked, and she became louder, falling into his embrace again.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He held her close again, but was confused. What did she have to be sorry for? He thought everything that had happened between them was his fault.

"Rach, why are you sorry?" She pulled away from him and sat him down at their booth and he handed her a coffee. He had ordered for her already.

"I want you to have the best life. I want you to finish college and be with your family and do all of the things you've ever wanted to do. You deserve it." She dared herself to move her hand to his cheek, choking back tears and holding it there, looking into his light brown eyes, dull in disarray.

"I already have everything I want, Rachel. I have you. I want to finish college here, in our little apartment. I want to get you the puppy you've always wanted, see you when you're on Broadway. I want you to know I'm there, cheering you on. I want to go across the world, having you make me try all of these exotic foods I'll end up spitting into my napkin while you're laughing at me. I want to grow old with you, with our kids in ballet and boy scouts and whatever else they want to do. I want to see you teach them your passion, your kindness. I want my grave to be next to yours. I want to be together forever, I thought you knew that. Those are all of the things I want to do." She was quiet now, touched by his speech. She wanted so badly to accept what he said, but that was before this had happened. She wasn't going to ruin his life, so she shook her head and took his hand, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. She had shrunk to match her tiny form when she was usually bursting from it. Instead of making herself look ten times taller with her attitude as she normally did, she fit right into her tiny form.

"I can't do that for you, Finn."

"_Why?_ Why now? You were the one who was telling me all of these things last month when we were walking through Central Park after your class. Do you remember that, Rachel? Do you remember how we went to dinner and laughed about all of the things we were going to do? How we sorted through puppy names and baby names, confusing the two and just laughing about it? Do you remember that night, Rachel? How we made love for the first time, and we woke up the next morning and you said you never wanted to leave? Never wanted any of this to change? What happened to that, Rachel? I'm pretty sure that didn't just disappear all of a sudden."

"Finn, I'm pregnant." There was silence from their booth. It felt as if the whole world had stopped, although Rachel was acutely aware that the man in the pinstripe suit had ordered another latte for the girl who had just come into the shop, and the woman next to them was still chomping on her biscotti, never quite knowing how to bite into it. Finn moved from his side of the booth to hers, holding her. She instinctively put her head on his shoulder.

"We can figure this out, Rachel." She realized in that moment how mature he had become, how calm he was in that moment, telling her they could do anything they set their minds to. Reality hit her like a heavy stone dropping into a river, though, and she shrank from his touch.

"I can't do this to you, Finn."

"Do what?"

"Trap you." He took hold of her hands then, and she noticed how they fit perfectly. Her tiny, manicured hands were laced with his large ones, calloused from his love of playing the drums. He made sure he had her attention, and then continued the conversation, his voice still and gentle to match his demeanor.

"You could never trap me, Rachel. I meant what I said about following you anywhere. Sure, this isn't what we expected right now, but I think we'll be pretty kickass parents if I do say so myself." He smirked and lightly poked her nose, something that become his habit when he was teasing her or trying to cheer her up. It worked, and she relaxed again, sinking back into the cushioned seat. He relaxed, too, and laid his arm on the seat behind her. She leaned his head on her shoulder and he looked down at her. When she noticed that he was staring, she turned to him. Etched onto his face was an ear to ear grin, and she tried not to smile.

"What are you looking at, Mr. Hudson?"

"What do you think of the name Drizzle?" She laughed and so did he, and they forgot all of their problems as they sat in their usual booth in a busy café in New York City, the rest of the world rushing around them.

**So I normally don't like people taking this route so I don't blame you if you're mad, but this sort of sprouted far away from the original idea I had. It grew a mind of its own, but that's alright.**

**Reviews/suggestions welcomed/loved. Any pairings you want to see? I'm trying to keep it varied**

**Love, Hollywood**


	24. Break

**Drabble #24: Break**

**(Suggested by Haley Renee)**

**[Quinn-centric, although her name isn't mentioned once :)]**

I desperately wanted a break. A break from myself, a break from everyone else. A break so that _I_ wouldn't break. It was harder than I made it look-my life, I mean. In retrospect I know that my life wasn't the hardest, nor will it ever be the hardest. Still, for high school it was still pretty rough.

I once that there was a tree that made people stop behold its beauty. In summer they would bring blankets, stretching out beneath it with their lovers. The sun beat down upon it, but it sheltered the people who sat below her, comforted by the blanket of cool air she kept. It seemed as though this was her time to help, when families came walking, their kids whining and dripping with sweat. She was their refuge as the parent's eyes glistened with realization and they set their stuff down at the base of her trunk. She helped people. In summer she often sat alone, too, at the peak of her beauty. Birds circled her without pause, only stopping when they spotted worms in the ground to feed their young. I often sat at home, itching to go back, to sit against her trunk once more. She had witnessed so much from this small town, this little park she called home; first and last kisses, longing, heartbreak. She had survived petty fights, storms, war. It amazes me that she stands strong still, only a few scratches running up her trunk. Nobody messed with her, nobody could if they tried.

In fall the young would try to climb it, adolescent eyes shining with adventure as they showed off to their new friends. In a way she was their rite of passage, the children wondering if they would really be accepted if they climbed to the designated branch, the one with an old baseball cap hanging from its end. They did it for themselves, for a spot in their new schools, or for some their new town. If they did it she made people feel accepted, as though they were ready to face any challenge thrown their way. Some of the children would wear the old baseball cap for a few seconds, relishing in the glory of a small town tradition they had finally taken part in. Their smiles were all she needed.

As winter came it sat alone, shed of its leaves. She didn't seem to mind, though. She kept herself up while the rest of her was weighted down with piles of snow that gathered in bunches on her branches and at the base of her trunk. Sometimes, though, someone would come near, seeking her as a hideout during a snowball fight. Her fallen branches would become the arms of snowmen and women, and she found humor in it. I liked to think that her branches were her problems, and that with each burden that added to them she could look forward to the winter, when she would be rid of her problems for good as they shaped themselves into something else.

As spring came more passed it. The weather was perfect then, and her leaves were beginning to grow back onto her branches. They could be good in a way, I realized. Although her branches were still there, the leaves were something that came as a surprise. They could be the one thing that kept her going, those leaves, like when a problem someone has leads them to someone else they hadn't thought of before. I was starting to think of everything in this way, in analogy to the old tree in the park. It kept me sane, and it was a nice break from everything I was going through.

In rainstorms she was shelter, in wind she was beauty. I try to model myself after this tree because she is resilient, she is strong, and she doesn't let people hurt her the way I do. If only I could be the way she was, but in a way I realized we had more in common than I had once thought. I had been looking at all of the positives, all of the ways she means so much to everyone. I hadn't been looking at the other side, the side I was currently on.

The children who climb her as a rite of passage in the fall literally walk all over her. They climb and claw, and some even snap bark from her core. I was like her, letting people rip my heart out. I was seen as mean, a hard shell who couldn't see what others thought, when in reality that's all I could see. I never wanted to go after anything because I was afraid, so I let others take what I wanted without so much as a threat, seemingly strong on the outside but aching on the inside. People carved their feelings on her, too. I noticed one day that one of her whole sides had been covered with initials, many of people who had probably broken it off after a week of so called love. Some were carefully crafted, perfectly symmetrical hearts with curly initials. Others were hasty, lopsided, with initials that one could just barely make out. I felt like that sometimes, like the poor tree. She had to sit there and watch as people rubbed their feelings in her face. Her scars were a constant reminder of every couple she had to see, pausing only long enough to carve their initials on her and then heading on their way. At this point that was all I felt, and the self-inflicted scar on my right arm was only proof of that. I never wanted that to happen, but I felt as if there was no other way. I regret that scar every day, but there is nothing I can do about it now. Just like the tree, I can't cure what has already been done to me.

**So another random drabble. I have no idea how the whole tree thing came in, but I always go with it. If it came to me than I figure it should be there. Kurt/Rachel friendship is coming soon. Actually, it was supposed to come today but this came out of what it was supposed to be. I don't know how angsty Quinn relates to any of what I was supposed to write, but oh well.**

**Anyways, reviews and suggestions are loved :) I want to feel the love _and_ the criticisms, like when water's so hot that it's cold...no? anyone?...awkward.**

**Love you guys!**

**Hollywood.**


	25. Practical Jokes Part 2

**Challenge #25: Practical Jokes (Part 2)**

**(Word suggested by Boris Yeltsin)**

**[Rachel/Kurt friendship]**

They had been plotting for hours, sitting in the Hummel-Hudson house with sheets of paper scattered across the kitchen table in chaotic piles. Their laptops were in the middle of the mess, and the two sat on opposite sides of the table; Rachel with her pink laptop, legs crossed with concentration, and Kurt with his macbook, scrolling through websites and smirking, writing things down on one of the random sheets of paper on the table. Every so often, one of them would laugh and call the other over, making them read what was on the website and then sending them the link. It had become their new Saturday ritual. They did this until they had gathered a hefty stack of papers, and then they cleaned their station and moved to the living room with a hefty bowl of cookie dough ice cream and two spoons, laying on the floor with their papers and laptops scattered around them. They made sure that Finn was going to be out first so that he wouldn't suspect anything, of course. Rachel's constant hanging around Kurt was enough to make him think, they thought. This was just for fun. That, and for Rachel's redemption.

"What about this one?" Rachel leaned up on her elbows, swallowing her bite of cookie dough and shifting the papers she was holding so she could read it. "'Grab all of the makeup you have and apply it to the sleeping person, making sure whatever it is you want to draw or apply appears bold on their face. When they wake up, don't tell them until they go to a mirror. It'll get tons of laughs from you. The funnier the makeup, the funnier the prank." She looked up at Kurt smiling, but was met with an incredulous expression from the boy in the bowtie.

"Are you serious, Rachel?"

"What?"

"That's the oldest one in the book. Besides, that's not going to do much to hurt him."

"Kurt!" She was shocked, but giggled, swatting him on the arm. "I don't want to physically hurt him, just emotionally!" He fake-pouted and shoved half the stack of papers behind him, a hurt expression fixed on his face.

"Well fine then. We'll keep looking." He shuffled through the papers and then stopped, a sly smile slowly creeping to his face, reaching his eyes and creating a playful sparkle amidst their smoky blue-green hues. Rachel noticed this and paused what she was doing, nervous to see such a look on her best friend.

"What's that look for…?"

"I've got it. This is it." He smiled and shoved the paper toward her, pointing to the line where the prank started, copied down in Kurt's neat, rounded handwriting. Rachel looked up at him and a pair of identical smirks reached their faces. It was mutual, it was go time.

Finn crept into the house that night, not wanting to wake anybody. It had been a late night, and he had returned home unable to watch the football game because the living room had been commandeered by Rachel and Kurt, who were watching West Side Story. Finn knew it well after watching it with Rachel so many times, and as he passed Rachel caught the sound of his soft humming, his hand tapping against the leg of his leans as he tried to be as nonchalant as possible. She smiled, and then quickly wiped it from her face, returning her attention back to Maria and Tony. He had been up all night listening to the movie, just barely audible from his place up the stairs and two doors on the left. He smiled when Maria came on, remembering the day he sang it to Rachel in the middle of the movie, the look on her face as she realized what he was doing. She was amazed that he knew all of the lyrics, but he learned them for her. He hummed to the song a bit, and then rolled over in his bed, falling asleep to Rachel and Kurt's peaceful harmonies.

He woke up the next morning yawning like crazy. He was a sloth getting out of bed, and he threw on a shirt and shuffled down to the kitchen hesitantly. He didn't really want to run into Rachel. With this in mind he quickly grabbed something to eat and then headed to the bathroom, turning on the hot water and waiting for the steam to come before getting in. The hot water left splotches of red on his pale skin and he winced as he looked down. He was too used to it now, and didn't realize how much it hurt until he saw the marks. He turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, letting the rest of the water drip onto the rug while he removed his toothbrush from the holder, delicately squirting toothpaste onto it and running it under the water.

They knew it had worked when they heard Finn curse. He ran out of the bathroom to get a glass of water, and when that didn't help he switched that for milk. He then ran to his brother's room, still in his towel, and burst through the door. His face was red from anger and pain, and he yelled his step-brother's name in vain.

"What the hell, man?" Rachel rolled over in her sleeping bag. She took one look at his face and had to hide hers, muffling her laughter in her pillow. Kurt let Finn see his laughter, pointing to the glass of milk in his step-brother's hand.

"It was that bad, huh?" Finn was about to respond, and then he saw Rachel laughing. He knew she was on Kurt's side now, and he felt a pang in his chest. This used to be their thing. He stormed out of the room and back to the bathroom, already planning his revenge. On his way there he found a lone sheet of stationary paper on the end table in the hallway upstairs. Curious, he picked it up and read.

_Wet the toothbrush and let it sit, the black cherry Warhead on it for two minutes. This gives the sour taste a while to really sink into the bristles. This prank is a real shocker._

**So that was part 2 :) I actually have a drabble I could use as a part 3, set in the future if anyone's interested. It's kind of silly and short, and it was written before parts 1 and 2, but I got a kick out of writing it.**

**Anyways, as always Reviews/suggestions are loved :)**

**-Hollywood**


	26. Broken

**Challenge #26: Broken**

**(Taken from DGForum's 100 day challenge, also a bit of a follow up from Break)**

**[Fabrevans]**

Before she had just been on the verge of breaking. She was walking, toes pointed, on a thin rope between two buildings. She'd be honest with herself and admit that she had wanted to jump a few times too. Then he came along. He fixed her when nobody else could with his little impressions and dorky, bright eyed smile. He was charming, his hair the color of Vienna fingers; his current dessert obsession. At times his eyes were even almost identical to hers; deep, ever-changing hazel with flickering specs of blue, so that you never truly knew what you were going to see when you looked into them. She knew, though. She knew everything about him, and he about her. They had gotten to know each other so well. Sam Evans was her savior.

When he first tried to kiss her in that classroom, she shut down. Her barrier had begun to crack without her realizing it, and she remembered her promise; she told herself that this year would be about her. Nobody would get in the way of that. She wasn't ready to go through another year like the last one-it was the worst stretch of time in her life. Somehow, though, he erased her memory of her promise- her memory of the things boys could do to her. At first she was about to give in. Subconsciously she even gave him the signal, letting her eyes drop to his lips and then back to his face. It all happened so quickly that she didn't know what she was doing, until his face was an inch from hers and her eyes met his. In a flurry she pulled back, stumbling on her words and wringing her hands under her cheerleading jacket. She almost told him that she loved him. This boy was dangerous, a straying path from the year she had planned. She wasn't ready to let herself love or be loved again, so she ran from the room, leaving him leaning against the wall in defeat, cursing under his breath.

He sent sparks through her and around her, until she was so consumed with him that she couldn't see anything else. He went slow with her because he understood who she was, and all she had become. He promised her that he would never do anything she didn't want to. He gained her trust with a speed that scared the crap out of her, in all honesty. He got down on one knee six weeks after they met each other and pretty much proposed to her, pouring his heart out to her. She had never been so emotionally touched by anyone in her life. He made her feel things she didn't know existed, but she still held on to the memories; the tortures, the heartbreaks, the social downfall as everyone she knew turned against her. Feeling these things for him, things she hadn't even felt with the father of her child, made her confused. She wanted desperately to let him completely take over every state of her mind, until there was nothing left. Hell, he was almost there already. But there was a part of her that still clung to the hurt, so she kissed him tentatively. He could tell she was scared. Oftentimes he just embraced her, letting her feel comfort in his familiarity, allowing her to feel safe again. She needed to feel safe, especially in a world where her worst enemy was herself.

When he told her he was leaving she didn't know what to think. Her whole body shut down at once, until she was numb, her thoughts the only part of her that were moving. They had just gotten back together a few weeks prior, after a mutual breakup of the couple everyone endearingly called Samcedes. She had been happy, in a state of complete euphoria caused by the soft, warm feeling of new love swelling throughout her body. It seemed as though everything else in her life was going to hell, he was there. He was there when her parents fought constantly, although they wouldn't separate due to their catholic morals. She often thought it'd be better if they did-she could go home to a peaceful house, not having to avoid the gaze of her still disapproving father. But she told all of her woes to Sam and all was forgotten. He picked her up when she called during her parents worst fights and they just drove. He let her have the silence she so badly desired, never pushing for an explanation. She gave it to him anyway-she trusted him with her whole being now. Quinn Fabray had finally found someone she knew wouldn't hurt her. He gave her hope in men, but she knew she would never be with anyone but him; even if he was moving back to Texas.

She went with his family to the airport, passive as she watched them load their luggage onto the belt. Her heart was sinking, and she felt it shattering deep within her. It was a pain she had never felt before, gentle compared to others. She thought of falling on her head during cheerios practice, when the loud thud signaled a concussion but she didn't feel a thing because she had blacked out. Mostly she compared it to the aftermath, lying on the couch and having this deep throbbing, gradually coming in and throbbing like the patterns of the waves. It was an itch she couldn't scratch, and it was exactly how she felt during their goodbye.

"I'll miss you, Trouty Mouth." Quinn uses the familiar nickname in her soft, sweet voice and he accepts it warmly, but only from her. Everyone else just uses it to taunt him. She was wrapped tight in his hold, trying to take in everything at once; the feel of his long arms around her tiny body, the way they were still hesitant against her waist until she responded wholeheartedly. She immersed herself in his soft scent, a mixture of his father's musty old comic books and his cologne; a blend of distinctive man smell she's sure they put in every cologne, along with sandalwood and tiny hints of freshly cut grass in the summer. He kissed her gently, both melting into their last kiss for what they knew would be a long time. He could barely hear his little brother's complaints or his sister's dreamy sigh, and as they pulled away they were smiling, Quinn's hazel eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I'll miss you too Luce." He noticed her tears and wiped one that had trailed down her cheek. She loved the fact that he could call her by her real name and she could feel comfortable, good about herself. It was one of the only times the name Lucy brought any good to herself. "But hey, I'll write you about my boring life in Texas and we can still have Skype dates."

"We can watch Avatar again." She smiled at the memory, and his face mimicked hers.

"But we all know you weren't watching the movie." He winked and she blushed, swatting his arm playfully.

"I couldn't help it, you were so cute mouthing the words to it." His mom called then, unwilling because she saw how happy her son was in that moment. But this wasn't their choice, and deep down he knew their moving was for the best. He kissed her one last time and joined his family, walking toward the jet way slowly. While the woman was scanning his ticket he looked up to see that Quinn was still watching him, letting the tears come freely now. He blew her a kiss and she pretended to catch it, sending one back to him so he could do the same. They shared a laugh and then he continued walking, only turning back one more time.

"I love you, Quinn Fabray!" He said those last words to her before he boarded the plane, sitting next to a stranger with his parents in front of him and his siblings behind. Taking out his iPod, he shut himself away from the world around him, closing his eyes and dreaming of the girl he was leaving behind. He didn't realize he was crying until the woman next to him handed him a tissue and taking it gratefully he turned back to his iPod, letting Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat's perfect harmonies take him back to Lima, Ohio.

Quinn sat alone in that airport for half an hour, staring at the terminal and letting herself sink into his hoodie until she could pretend that he was there with her. She felt someone drop into the chair next to her, and then a slender pair of arms wrapped themselves around her. She sunk into the girl's embrace and sighed-no tears were left for her to cry. The tiny brunette then got up from the seat, reaching her hand out for the blonde to take.

"I'm so sorry, Quinn." When she didn't say anything back Rachel continued anyway. "You've been here for a half an hour, I'll drive you home." Quinn took her hand and accepted her help with gratitude. Sam taught her that, and she was ready to let people in now, to forgive and forget. So she linked her arm with Rachel's and leaned on her shoulder as she led her out of the airport. Quinn took one last look at the terminal and then looked down.

"Rachel? Can we go to your house instead? My parents are fighting again." Rachel was sympathetic, and as they drove to her house she let Quinn talk all about it until she ran out of things to say. Later that night, when Rachel was already asleep and Quinn was close to it, she called Sam and escaped to the hallway, not wanting to wake her new friend.

"I love you. And thank you."

"I love you too. And for what?"

"For saving me from myself…Do you think we can do this? This long distance thing?" She was nervous and he could tell

"So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day." The familiar quote hit her and she smiled shyly, taking in everything that was her boyfriend.

"The Notebook? Isn't that supposed to be a chick flick?" On the other side of the line, in a small house in Texas, Sam smiled at her little joke. She was mimicking what she had said on their third date, when they stayed in and watched movies all day. Playing along, his tone grew into one of mock-self-centeredness.

"Well, you know, I'm just a big ol' softie. That's why I always get the pretty girls like you." She giggled and then sighed again, and they sat there for a while, neither knowing what to say next, enjoying the sound of each other's breathing.

"Sam?" It was Quinn who broke the silence in a small, vulnerable voice.

"What?"

"I never want to break up with you. I'm scared, how am I going to face this year alone?"

"You won't be alone, I'll be a phone call or text away. Before you know it, it'll be winter break and I'll be flying in to see you." Quinn fell asleep an hour later feeling better than she had about the distance. She snuggled into his hoodie and told herself that this was definitely not the end of Ken and Barbie.

**I know I said I would spread out the pairings but I can't help it, my Fabrevans heart just broke a little inside. If you haven't heard, Chord isn't being signed on as a regular, now he'll just be a sometimes guest star. What. The...anyways, the unichords and Sammites are rallying, and if you want to you can head over to twitter and sign this petition. (http:/twitition(dot)com(slash)ykbuw every signature counts.**

**Anyways, reviews are loved and appreciated. Seriously, I can't thank you guys enough for all of this. I love each and every one of you :)**

**-Hollywood**


	27. Beach

**Challenge# 27: Beach**

**(Suggested by Haley Renee)**

**[Brittana]**

The stormy world drowned with hate and swirling ignorance crashes over the rocks of the beach. The sky is filled with clouds and the ocean seems angry, filled with a biting ferocity similar to Santana's as she walks, treading along the water. She stops for a minute to let the foam rise and envelope her bare feet, feeling the bitter cold wrap around her. Her shiny black hair blows in the wind, out of control and whipping across her face. Some gets stuck to her glossed lips but she leaves it, liking the chaos of the moment. Craning her neck to the sky, sea birds fly above her like a prayer, and she equates the birds to hope. Maybe some day, she thinks, she'll be able to walk this same coast hand in hand with the person she loves without the looks. They'll do all of the things they used to talk about; building sandcastles and tanning, jumping through the waves and laughing together as they're brought under the playfully vicious currents, their heads popping back above the surface in delight.

She came to this beach to reflect on her life, and she knew it was the right choice. It is not as crowded as it was the day before, when the whole club came down to spend their day off from rehearsals having fun before Nationals. She came to be away from the things that tugged solemnly at her heart; Finn and Rachel holding hands and walking together, Quinn and Sam playing in the waves. She so badly wanted to have the courage to act like that, to even hold hands with the bubbly, blonde dancer without the looks of complete scorn. She thinks about all of the things she could do, the things she should've done, and it depresses her even more. She wipes the penitent thoughts from her mind almost as quickly as they came and focuses on the sounds of the ocean, soothing although she can clearly see its raging currents before her. When she glances down at her phone and sees the time she sighs, turning around and walking the other way, toward the hotel where rehearsal was about to begin. _Well, _she thought, digging her toes in the sand as a final farewell, _it's now or never._

Lights pulse and weave around them as they hold out the last note of their song, eyes locked and hearts pounding. When they hear the last chord fade they don't dare look to their audience-they don't want to know their reaction, anticipating it to be one of discouragement and raging ignorance. Instead, they grab hold of each other's hands, and the Latina links pinkies with the blonde. They smile at each other and continue to look down until a wall of unanimous applause hits them. Finally, the blonde dares to look up and a hundred-watt smile lights up her face. Soon she's leaving the stage, jumping into anyone's arms who will hug her, leaving the Latina sitting alone on her stool, staring into the crowd with a smaller smile, her eyes shining. She was joined by the rail-thin counter-tenor and his boyfriend, who sat on the stool next to her. The counter-tenor hugged her and this time she didn't let go. She was no longer vicious, no longer guarded. She knew she had the support of the glee club, her family.

"I'm so proud of you." Kurt murmured into her soft hair. She grinned and opened her arms to let his boyfriend into the hug, and the three just stood in the middle of the stage, taking comfort in their similarities. "This must've been so hard for you."

"It was, but it was worth it." She looked over at Brittany then, who was conversing with a large group of their friends that were patting her on the back and congratulating her, and she thought that maybe the whole world wasn't as hateful as she thought it was.

After rehearsal, she went back to the beach. This time, her companion held her hand and they walked the coastline together, the now blue skies high above them. The waves slushed onto the shore calm and quiet, and birds lazily circled through the air. Nobody looked, nobody even gave them a second glance. In this moment, they were at complete peace, wishing it could stay like that forever.

**Just a little quickie today, because apparently I have no motivation and caffeine makes me too psychotic to function. And because of the fact that I'm still campaining for Chord like crazy. He's not being promoted to a regular for next season, and it's made many of us upset. If you haven't yet, _please_ support Chord! Buy his cover of "Billionaire" on iTunes and sign the twittition to show your support for our dear Trouty Mouth. For more information just search his name on Tumblr.**

**That's all for my public service announcement. Have a nice day!**

**-Hollywood**


	28. Seeking Peace

**Challenge #28: Seeking Peace**

**(Taken from DGForum's 100 day challenge)**

**[Future Finchel]**

**(This could also be taken as a follow-up to Chapter 23. Machine)**

She came often to that sight, dropping flowers dusted with a baby pink color that was often seen on the tutus of many a famous ballerina. She would stand in silence, reading over the inscription with careful diligence although she knew it by heart. She got lost in the font, black against solid grey stone, pausing only at the end to reflect, letting her gaze rest on the heart at the end of the words. She let her fingers trace its curve, head rushing with so many thoughts that not a single one came forward. Dropping to her knees she let herself cry now, unashamed in the place of the mourners. A pair of arms scooped her tiny body into their lap, and she let herself be relocated without any effort, only moving to bury her head in his chest, escaping the familiar funeral home scent of the flowers she purchased. It had only been mere months, but it felt like a lifetime since she had last seen her baby girl.

_The doctor started to mumble, and she looked up long enough to see the look of panic as it crossed his face. As soon as it was there, though, he wiped it off and replaced it with a neutral half-grin. She saw right through his act._

"_What's wrong?" Rachel response was immediate, her tone worried, and it made Finn perk up from where he had been sitting, waiting for the doctor to say something. He hadn't seen the doctor's face, so he wondered why Rachel was being so urgent._

"_I'm afraid there are some minor complications."_

"What _complications?" Finn had become just as alert as Rachel now, and he could only picture the worst._

"_I can't say for sure what the effects will be-I'll have to run a few more tests to make sure-but I _can _say that it doesn't look good, in all honesty." He was standing in front of them now, and Rachel wanted to smack the passive look right off of his clean-shaven face. She felt a rush of emotions swell through her, but Finn held her hand, and she thought that maybe they could get through this._

She was wrong. She hated being wrong. Especially in this situation, when it felt as though everything had fallen to complete shit and nothing could get better in her life. She still had to work, still had to perform. She still had to wake up in the morning avoiding the mirror because she hated what she saw. For a long time, all she could think of to say was

"This is my fault." But Finn would always grab her, sometimes a bit too firmly, and say

"This is nobody's fault. It's called a mutation for a reason, Rach. There's _nothing_ we could've done about it." And as much as it pains her to accept it, she knows that it's true.

_They spend the night researching the disease, letting themselves be consumed with web articles and blogs spewing all kinds of words at them. At first, they're confused. What's the disease that's plaguing their child before she's even in the world? And then they find it, amidst a flurry of personal stories both of triumph and failure. A simple definition;_

"_All people with Osteogenesis Imperfecta have weak bones, which makes them susceptible to fractures. Persons with OI are usually below average height ( short stature). However, the severity of the disease varies greatly…" _

"_What's that supposed to mean?" Finn looked up from his computer and onto her screen at the website she had just read from._

"_Basically the bones break easily. Like, really easily. And then here, it says…" Her face fell, and she could feel her heart drop into her stomach, a lump forming in her throat. Finn took this opportunity to read the next sentence aloud._

"_The severe form of Osteogenesis Imperfecta, Type II, can be seen on an ultrasound when the fetus is as young as sixteen weeks. So now we know that she has Type II. Should I look that up too?" Rachel didn't hear his question, though. Her tiny hands covered her stomach and her body was shaking, head hidden in her arms. _

"_Rach, we can get through this. I know we can." He tried to comfort her, but hearing his positive words only made her worse. He looked over at her screen again, trying to find what had shaken her so badly. There, on the bottom of the page, was the worst news he could've received._

"_Type II is a severe form, which usually leads to death within the first year of life."_

He couldn't believe it now, even as he sat in front of her grave. It had been a long road from the time they had found out about her, and now he just wanted her back. Even as his girlfriend wet his shirt with their tears as they sat mourning their daughter, he knew they made the right decision.

"_I assume you know what's going on now?" They nodded, not wanting to speak. The examination room felt unwelcoming now, and Rachel sat in discomfort on the chair, listening to it squeak as she shifted around in it._

"_Are there any medicines, Doctor Cayhill? Any treatments?"_

"_Unfortunately, no. But you do have options, although I'm not sure how well you'll take them."_

"_We're not getting rid of her." Rachel's voice was tiny as she spoke, holding her stomach gently and defensively. _

"_I can give you more time to think your options over, if you'd like." He was trying to coax them, Finn could tell. He was angered by this, getting up from his seat so he could reach his girlfriend's other hand._

"_It's not an option." He growled, shooting Cayhill a dirty look, holding Rachel and his daughter as if he were some sort of shield; as if he could protect her while she was still inside of Rachel._

They came often, on the weekends, mostly, when they both normally had nights off from work and could sit for a while. Their visits increased as it got closer to what would've been Rachel's due date, when their little girl would've entered the world if she hadn't been so fragile, so tender.

"_Finn?" She called to him suddenly and fiercely, and he dropped the knife he was cleaning into the sink and rushed from the kitchen, kneeling at her side._

"_What's wrong?"_

"_I think something just happened, I have no idea. I felt something pop." She was gripping her stomach now, and she felt her heart rate increase. "I think she's hurt." He was already rushing her to the car but she slowed him down, not wanting to do any more damage._

_They got to the hospital and everything happened in a blur. She was hoisted onto a gurney after telling the doctor their baby had OI, and Rachel cried as she watched the hospital walls zoom around her, Finn desperately trying to keep up with them. They stopped him at the door of the surgery room and pointed him to a hard bench, where he sat and listened to the quiet chaos of the hospital. Machines beeped and doctors paged each other over the intercom. At one point, the victim of what he assumed was a car accident was wheeled by him, and he looked at the victim's companion with sympathy. She, like he, was desperate, running alongside the gurney with tears streaming down her childlike face. He decided he hated hospitals._

_He was called into the room after what seemed like an eternity, and he suited up and stood next to his girlfriend while they completely cut her stomach open. He didn't look at them, mostly because he was busy comforting her. He held her hand and kissed her while they both just waited, soaking in the sounds of the doctors conversing quietly with each other while machines buzzed around them. Finally, they heard a subdued, choking cry, and they cried along with their baby as Finn cut the chord, taking a good look at his daughter. She was perfect, with big brown eyes and a bit of brown hair atop her tiny head. He didn't get a good chance to look before the doctors rushed her to intensive care, though, and he watched the little carrier being rolled out of the room in dismay. Rachel didn't say much. Unlike her normal self, she sat in silence while they waited, only a few murmurings of congratulations drifting with hesitant breath. _

_They let the couple see her an hour later, Finn wheeling Rachel to the room nervously, each not knowing what they were about to see. She was the fourth child on the left, her carrier labeled with a hastily scrawled _Baby Girl Hudson, OI patient_ on the tag that dangled from the front of her incubator. Getting a closer look at her, Finn noticed that her left leg bent awkwardly. Wires were attached to much of her little body, and she was hooked to oxygen machines. Rachel was numb. She reached into the incubator, a hole just big enough for a person's arm, and held her daughter's hand delicately. The baby blinked her big brown eyes and yawned, looking up at her mother. Her chest jerked in an awkward pattern of breathing, but in that moment she was perfect and she was theirs and that's all that mattered._

"_Do you have a name for her?"_

They told her she wouldn't make it through the night, but she ended up defying them. Two days after her birth, she passed away, suffering from heart failure.

"She was just like you," He says to her as they're getting ready to leave. The sun's set and they've missed dinner, but they hadn't realized their hunger. "A little fighter, always willing to work to get what she wants." She responds by wrapping her hand around his waist and he pulls her in, kissing the top of her head.

In a little cemetery nestled within small town Lima, Ohio, a bundle of pink flowers rests at the base of a grave made delicately from grey stone. The couple who would have parented its occupant finds it bitingly ironic that the final resting place of their fragile child is in the earth beneath something so unbreakable, while their child could've been broken by any simple movement. The hard stone's inscription reads;

Aubrey Marie Hudson

June 12th, 2011-June 14th, 2011

Our lives are touched by you. Changed forever by your brief existence. Your memory we keep alive. You live only in our hearts and minds, We were blessed by your short life. Our love for you forever strong. Even though someone will always be missing.

**I can't even right now. I don't know where this came from, but my little shipper heart can't take it. The information on Osteogenesis Imperfecta was taken from Encyclopedia Encarta online and Medline Plus, and the inscription on Aubrey's tombstone is acutally an excerpt from a poem by called Someone Is Missing (I had to modify it so it fit because the poem was about a boy, the only words I changed are the 'you's', which are supposed to be he or his.) **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, and for staying with me during all of my crazy drabbles that sprout from nowhere :)**

**-Hollywood**


	29. Challenge

**Challenge #29: Challenge**

**(Suggested by EmoGleek)**

**[Fabrevans]**

They had become comparable to a giddy group of seven year olds at a slumber party, and they loved it. Through the summer before their senior year, the glee club hung out more than they ever had before. Whether it was in smaller groups or the whole club, it was as if a member of the club was never seen without another.

It was early August when their largest party was held. Every single glee club member was in attendance, congregating around in-ground pool settled in Brittany's backyard. A smaller group was in the pool and had started a game of chicken, Brittany and Santana battling whoever would challenge them. Santana was on top, though, and those who had gotten in real fights with her before wouldn't dare try to beat the fierce Latina. A chubby grey cat strolled along the perimeter of the yard, and as he passed the pool some of the students bent down to show him affection. Brittany had mentioned more than once that Lord Tubbington loved attention.

As the sun went down, the pool slowly started to empty, its occupants now wrapped tightly in towels in attempts to dry off as much as they could before dinner. They ended up eating an arrangement of grilled foods and snacks Brittany's mother had prepared, and they scattered in lawn chairs and on the ground to eat and chat with each other, catching up on their summers. Most of the teens didn't stay in one group, but switched between them, plopping down in the grass or an extra chair after hugging someone they hadn't seen in a while. It was sort of chaotic, never a break from constant movement, but it was the type of chaos that embodied who they were as a group, the sort of thing that made so many different people mesh so well together.

It was Kurt who first suggested they play truth or dare. They were in the pool house now, scattered between the floor and the large white sectional sofa that covered one wall and the half of another. Drinks and snacks had been put on any available surface except the glass top coffee table the group was centered around, which had been cleared. At first some of the group groaned, complaining that truth or dare was for younger kids. Some, though, had perked up at the suggestion and began to coax the others into a game, now sitting in a complete circle around the coffee table. An empty bottle was in the middle of the table, and once it was set down everyone hesitantly looked at each other, each not wanting to go first, waiting for someone to set the pace for their impromptu game. Kurt rolled his eyes, laying his hand on the bottle and giving it a confident spin. It swirled around, more than a dozen pairs of eyes fixated on it. It landed on Quinn and he paused, a contemplative look crossing his face.

"Truth or dare?" She pondered this and chose truth, what she thought would be the safer option-especially with someone as devious as Kurt. "Okay, give me a second." He kept that same look on his face until it suddenly lit up in the triumph of finding a question. "Out of all of the guys you dated in high school so far, which one would you date again?" She sighed out of the easiness of the question. It was strange, though, because most of the guys she'd dated were in the room at that moment. She saw Puck's cocky smirk in her peripheral vision and she almost snorted in distaste. Of course he would think it'd be him.

"Sam." Whispers carried across the room and she dared not meet his eyes, although a small grin set on his face and he tried not to blush.

"Care to elaborate?"

"There's nothing to really elaborate. Plus, it's my turn now." She grabbed the bottle on the table, trying to divert the attention away from herself. It spun a while and then landed with its neck toward the opposite side of the room, where people had piled onto the couch. The neck pointed to Santana, and when she asked for a dare Quinn had no idea what to do. She randomly spurted out the first thing that came to her mind, and soon a gaggle of girls surrounded her, each with a makeup pencil in their hand. They were laughing, and the others were standing, trying to get a closer look. When they were done, Santana's face had become a train wreck of random patterns and doodles, and Quinn snuck a picture, reminding herself to put it up on Facebook when she got home. The game continued on like that, with random dares that caused the whole group to roar with laughter. Finn ran around Brittany's house in his boxers, and then Kurt switched clothes with Brittany. Brittany stuck her face straight into the long forgotten pot of fondue, licking her lips as her head resurfaced from the cheese. She had to dunk her head in the pool again, and when she came back the bottle had landed on Quinn. Quinn had to color a picture for Lord Tubbington, and she laughed at the simplicity of Brittany's dare.

When it was her turn again the bottle landed on the third blonde in the room. He chose dare, and she had to consider her options. She could be simple and choose one that was classic and dreadfully cliché, or she could be daring. She looked around the room, her eyes scanning the array of people around her; Santana, whose face was multicolored and patterned, Brittany, with bits of fondue still dripping down her face, and Kurt, completely comfortable in Brittany's size zero skinny jeans and flowing t-shirt. The group of eccentric, random people gave her confidence, and she simply stated her next request. She said it as more of an order than a question, looking him right in the eyes.

"Kiss me." He cared about what she thought, so when she dared him he knew he was in trouble. Of course he was single now, but there was something about her that was like a magnetic pull to him. He couldn't technically consider himself single when he was so attached to her. He followed her order, getting up from his place on the couch and crossing the room to her. She was suddenly overcome with nerves as he grew closer, and she held back a surprised gasp as he grabbed her face with both of his hands, pulling her toward him. The action was gentle, but there was a hint of need in his actions. As they kissed, the group overacted their awkwardness; some coughed loudly while others rolled their eyes so much that they might have rolled back into their heads. When Sam pulled away they were both blushing, lips red from the events of the dare. He didn't bother crossing back to the couch then, but sat next to Quinn, taking her hand. He turned to her and fake pouted and she laughed, bringing his face close to hers so she could whisper in her ear.

"We'll finish later." She reassured him, and they continued the game unable to break the little glances they threw each other.

**Thanks for reading! :) Click the little button at the bottom of the screen to send me some more suggestions and/or reviews :)**

**-Hollywood**


	30. Practical Jokes Part 3

**Challenge #30: Practical Jokes (Part 3)**

**(Suggested by Boris Yeltsin)**

**[Kurt/Blaine/Rachel friendship]**

Kurt barely knew what Blaine did for work, only that he had gone to business school for it, and traveled a lot for his job. All he knew is that he did some sort of work for a big company, and when he asked Blaine would tell him to leave it at that. It's not that Kurt minded, as long as he and Blaine Skyped often and Blaine still had a job it was fine with him. Kurt knew him well enough that he wasn't a member of the mafia, although he had told Finn something similar once just for fun.

_It was Thanksgiving, and the first one with a grandchild at the table. Technically, the grandchild wasn't at the table at all, but it was still symbolic to the Hudson-Hummel/Berry family Thanksgiving. Little Stella Hudson and Rachel were in the living room of the new Hudson house, Rachel just playing with her daughter before the guests arrived. They were set to arrive in about an hour, and she was nervous because it would be the first time Stella would meet a few of her relatives due to her November birthday._

_Kurt was less than nervous. He and Blaine arrived an hour early as instructed and walked into the house without a moments hesitation. They greeted Finn, who was cleaning up the house a bit, and Blaine headed to the bathroom, leaving the step brothers alone._

"_Um…Kurt?" Finn briefly looked up from his Swiffer, and then continued to dust the hard wood flooring in the den. _

"_What?" Kurt was admiring baby pictures of Stella, which were scattered all over the house._

"_Well I was just wondering, what does Blaine do for a job?"_

"_Something for the government, we've gone over this."_

"_But…what exactly? I want a straight up answer, I'm so sick of wondering what he could be!" Kurt picked his brain for an answer, and then a light bulb went off in his head. And as with any classic Kurt epiphany, show tunes began to play in his head._

"_He's a secret agent. You know, with secret service. But…" He leaned closer to his step brother, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Don't tell anyone I told you, okay?" _

_And that's how Kurt left Blaine in the den with Finn, both talking about the big game that was going to be on soon. He rushed to the living room and greeted Rachel hurriedly, logging on to her laptop. _

"_What's the rush, Kurt? And why are you on my laptop?" He paused from his quick typing and sighed, lowering the laptop screen so he could look at Rachel fully. She had grown her high school bangs out, and settled for a curly look for the day. The baby in her arms had her exact nose, while she also had Finn's large brown eyes and prominent chin. _

_Kurt lowered his voice so the boys in the other room wouldn't hear him, and began to speak slowly. "I'm pulling a prank on Finn. A classic, like we used to do when you were broken up in high school and we wanted to screw with him." Her eyebrows perked, and she shook her head, speaking in a tone of surprise. _

"_I thought you were done with that."_

"_I only said that because the alien prank went a little bit too far."_

"_I still think it should've gone further." _

"_He was walking around New York in a tin foil cape. What else did you want?" _

"_I was still hoping for the alien costume. And my full performance of Born This Way as alien goddess Rhea. It would've been a showstopper."_

"_Yeah, well this is different. This involves the government and my husband." Rachel leaned forward in her chair, attention now fixated on Kurt, who had begun to surf the web. He got up and sat next to Rachel now, the woman leaning over so she could see the screen of her laptop. Kurt was mumbling and typing, then scrolling through Google, looking at websites with great care. When he finally came to what he wanted he breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally, a realistic government document template. And look, online no download." He was pointing to the screen now, the same old excitement returning to his shining, child-like eyes._

_When the document came out of the printer, Rachel called Blaine into the room, sending Kurt to distract Finn while she gave him the rundown on the way their pranks work. When she was done, Blaine took his pink sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slipped them on, along with his Bluetooth headset._

"_Excellent." He said, getting into character and tipping his sunglasses to Rachel before talking a bit louder. "What did you say you wanted, Rachel?" Her voice was also raised, both trying to get the attention of the boys in the other room. That was Kurt's cue._

"_A fax just came in, it looks like it's for you. This looks like official stuff, government stationary too." _

"_Oh well, that's just…my boss. At the…morgue. He likes us to look classy."_

"_Morgue my ass." Finn grumbled, listening from the other room. He turned to Kurt and shook his head in disbelief. "He really thinks he's going to get away with this? Smartass. He can't fool me." _

_As Blaine ate dinner, Finn took account of everything he did, hanging on to his every word and watching him like a hawk. He was ready to get down to the truth, and fast. As dinner came to a close and the guests were leaving, Finn pulled Blaine aside quite forcefully and pinned him against the wall._

"_You tell me why the government sent you here and you may go in peace." The fax machine then whirred, distracting Finn long enough for Blaine to fake a Bluetooth call, leaving the room. Finn picked up the fax, looking around for signs of Blaine before reading it._

Finn,

The United States Government needs you for a special mission. Please go up to your room and leave Blaine Anderson alone. Maybe play some Call of Duty like you used to. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated. Love, the CIA. (Rachel and Kurt were here, and they totally got you,)

**It took me forever to find this, but here it is! This was part of a longer Klaine story I was writing until I realized how unrealistic part of it was, so I stopped. I'm glad I found a home for this part though :) **

**Welcome to all of the new readers too, and thank you for all of your find words on the last chapter. More Fabrevans will be coming for all of you Sammites/Unichords/etc. And if you happen to ship Overgron I've got some little ficlets on my Tumblr if you want to check those out (the link's in my profile)**

**Anyways, thanks again! Next chapter will be Sunday since I'm babysitting all day tomorrow, so this is early in place of the one tomorrow unless I have motivation after spending all day with a two year old...so expect it Sunday.**

**-Hollywood**


	31. Push

**Challenge #31: Push**

**(Suggested by Haley Renee)**

**[Fabrevans]**

She swung without effort, looking around her as the scenery of her backyard flew around her. The pretty blonde girl who was pushing her on the swing wouldn't push her as high as she wanted to go, but she was still loving it, tipping her head back a tiny bit to let the wind catch her short brown hair. As she felt it flow behind her she closed her eyes, laughing as it hit her face on the way back down. The girl pushing her on the swing was her new babysitter, and she was loving the fact that she hadn't sopped pushing her on the swing yet.

The blue swing fell back into Quinn's arms and she gave it another hearty push, its occupant giggling and cheering, wanting to go even higher than she was. Quinn only listened to the request to an extent, not wanting the little girl to fall out of the swing. She was being delicate, making sure the swing didn't jolt with the light force of her pushing. As she listened to the little girl laugh, she smiled to herself. The little girl on the swing was her daughter, even if she didn't know that.

Quinn had been asked to baby-sit on a limb, Shelby not really sure if it would be a good idea or not. As soon as she saw how well her daughter took to the high school senior, all of those doubts were erased from her mind. Shelby left her daughter with a sitter happily for the first time in a while, Beth barely even noticing her mother had gone. She had grabbed Quinn's finger and was dragging her around the house, pointing at things and babbling along in toddler-speak. Quinn followed obediently, making small comments and watching with pride as her daughter showed her all of her toys in her room. She was happy, and Quinn could tell that giving her up, no matter how hard it had been, was ultimately the best thing she could have done.

She was tiny and a bit shy, hidden behind Shelby's leg that morning; the first time Quinn had met her. Quinn dropped into a squat, holding out her hand and introducing herself in a soft, friendly voice.

"Hi, Beth. My name's Quinn. Are those _your _toys over there?" Beth nodded, looking at the new face curiously. She was only two, not knowing anything about her last babysitter except for the fact that she wasn't coming back. She sucked on her thumb, one hand still clutching the leg of her mother's jeans. Quinn gasped. "You're so lucky, it looks like there's so many neat things over there. Do you want to show me?" She tried again, holding her hand out to the toddler. Beth smiled and nodded, taking Quinn's hand and plopping down next to the pile of stuffed animals and grabbing the first one she saw.

"Bear." Beth handed her the animal and she took it, holding it in her lap. The toddler picked up the next animal and held it out to Quinn, continuing her game. "Lion. Roar!" She held her hands up and opened her mouth wide, little roar coming out of her with playful force. She started toward Quinn, who was now pretending to be scared. Quinn got up and ran less than half speed, giving Beth the easy challenge to catch her. She did, tackling her to the floor. Quinn began to tickle her. Beth squirmed in Quinn's arms, her face turning into different shapes as she giggled. She already liked the new babysitter better than her old one.

They had been swinging for what felt like an hour to Quinn, her body tiring from the repeated motion. Beth didn't want to stop, though, so Quinn kept pushing, loving the sound of the toddler's laughter as the swing moved forward. It was early morning, and there weren't many cars about in the small neighborhood. From their place in the backyard Quinn could see straight to the road, which is why she noticed the first car that had driven by all morning. Somehow it looked familiar to her, but her thoughts didn't dwell on familiarity. She was too busy noticing how it had slowed down as it was passing the house, the fact creeping her out. She stopped pushing Beth for a while, focusing on the truck as it drove away. The way the car had slowed down was creepy, but she couldn't focus on the sketchiness for long, not wanting to scare Beth. Instead, she continued to push her, hoping her feeling was just coincidental.

The truck showed again half an hour later but this time it stopped in the street, and Quinn noticed that it was being parked. She grabbed Beth, climbing up to the tree house as a first instinct. She told Beth to be quiet and they hid within the platform, Quinn still watching the car. The driver's door opened and the person got out, closing the door behind him. She couldn't make out anything besides a head of blonde hair, the rest of the strange person's features blurred by distance. As he approached she squinted, making sure her vision was correct.

"…Sam?" He waved his hand in greeting and she slid down the slide with Beth in tow, holding her close as they approached. "I thought you were some creeper." She joked, relieved to see him for the first time since they'd broken up.

"Nope, just that random guy who likes to drive around Lima at ten in the morning. You know how I am." Quinn laughed a bit, shifting Beth's weight on her hip. "No but seriously, I was driving Stacy to ballet and I saw you out in the yard and thought I'd say hello." He turned his attention to Beth and bowed to her cordially. "And who's this lovely lady?"

"This is Beth." Sam looked at Quinn now, giving her a quizzical look. She seemed to understand because she nodded her head. Now that it had been mentioned, he could easily see who she was. She had Puck's hair and eye color, but Quinn's nose. He also guessed that she would have Quinn's naturally thin figure by her current size. He stubbornly admitted that she _was _a cute baby, no matter who Quinn had her with.

"Well Beth, my name's Sam. It's very nice to meet you." Beth giggled and Sam started to tickle her toes, only causing more laughter from her.

"Push! Push!" Quinn put Beth down and reached for her hand, Beth taking a finger as that was all she could fit in her tiny hands. She took Sam's finger too, and the three walked to the swings together.

It turned out that Beth wanted Sam to push her, so he did, Quinn taking the swing next to hers and watching her ex-boyfriend play with her daughter. At first it had been awkward, but then Sam began to push her as well, alternating between the two girls every swing. Quinn was laughing now too, the only difference between her laughter and Beth's being pitch. As the day wore on, Sam helped Quinn baby-sit with Shelby's permission, the two spending the day caring for Beth easily.

Quinn couldn't help but think how different her life would be if Beth was her and _Sam's _child. _Well, _she thought, _if Beth was mine and Sam's it would be far in the future. He wouldn't have pressured me like Puck did._ 'Playing house' with Sam proved to be amusing. She found out that he was great with kids but horrible with discipline, a general softie when it came to Beth's little pouting or whining. On the other hand she was better with discipline, yet unable to totally relate to Beth in the way Sam could. He meshed so well with her, and she guessed that it was because of his inner five year old. At this time the only thing that could've made the day better was if Sam had been there as her boyfriend, their future set in stone before them as it had been before, when his silver ring was still on her finger.

**You asked for Future Fabrevans and this is what came out. Don't worry, I'll do a future one soon enough. This came from babysitting today, where I spent most of the day pushing the little girl I babysit on the swing**

**(Plus, I kind of really wanted one where Quinn saw how good Sam was with kids)**

**Thanks for reading :) The little button is for reviewing, which is always loved by any author! Also, if you're new to the format of this story, you can drop little words in there too for prompts. Credit will be given, of course :)**

**-Hollywood**


	32. Pause

**Challenge #32: Pause**

**(Suggested by EmoGleek)**

**[Klaine]**

Kurt lay completely still in his hospital, taking away the fact that his breathing had finally become regular. His eyes were closed to the world around him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to open them. Day after day he listened to people come in and out of his room and sit with him. His father, an ever present figure, was usually standing in the corner, almost as silent as his son. Mercedes and Rachel were usual visitors too, although the two of them usually cried. It killed Kurt to know that he couldn't respond to them. All he wanted to tell them was that he was ok, (and to tell Puck and Finn not to kill Karofsky. He didn't want them in jail, even though he deserved it). Luckily, he had Carole for that. She mostly kept track of who came in and out, and kept control of everybody's volume.

Kurt almost enjoyed not having to answer anyone just yet. He liked being able to keep the pain to himself, not having anyone else carry his burden. He knew that once the cause of his injuries got out, people would pity him. Kurt Hummel was not one to accept pity, it made him feel weaker than he already was. He hadn't even learned how to move his muscles, which was killing him. He felt people slip their hands in his all day, and he couldn't even muster squeezing them back.

Blaine was there constantly-well, until David and Wes had to collect him to go to classes. He mostly talked to Kurt, and at first it was aggravating for Kurt. He wanted to be able to answer, to give his usual cynical comments. But even Blaine said that that was impossible. 'They say you probably won't be able to talk for a while, you haven't even opened your eyes yet. I'll kill whoever did this to you, I promise.' It was a strange sensation, having a reply in your head and having nothing come out. He wished he could just write on a white board like Rachel did when she got Tonsillitis. That would make life so much easier. But apparently his life wasn't meant to be easy. His mom had told him that one day when he had come home crying after being bullied.

"Life wasn't made to be easy, Kurt. It was made to be lived. These kinds of things were meant to be lived through. Don't linger on it, that's what they want." She kissed his forehead and moved to the door of his bedroom, shutting off the light. "Besides, you'll be their boss some day." He had slept well that night, and held his head high in school the next day. His mother had been his savior.

Blaine liked to keep him updated on everything that was going on around him. "Rachel just left, if you didn't know that was her. I think she's dating Finn again, but I'm not sure. You would probably know if you weren't in the accident, and it didn't happen just around an hour ago. I heard that talking to people who are in comas is a good thing. Mostly because they say a person in a coma can remember everything that's said to them while they're in it. I'm not sure if it's true, but if it is, I think it's a little weird. When my mom was younger and my dad wasn't a douche bag my mom got into a car accident on the way home from shopping. She was in a coma for months. My dad told her he loved her when she was in a coma, and she remembered. Of course she asked him about it right when she woke up. They dated ever since that day. If I told you I loved you, would you remember? It's probably not important, anyway. Wes and David stopped by today too. They came and gave me all of my homework, those jerks. That's alright, it gives me something do. Like…French." He pulled the navy blue book out of his backpack and opened to a stray page, still sitting at Kurt's bedside. "It's weird doing French alone. I miss tutoring you. You got too good too fast. Pretty soon I'll have to ask you for help." Blaine sits next to Kurt, mumbling while he conjugates French verbs into stupid, nonsensical sentences. He makes up stupid little stories with them to entertain Kurt, like they always do together, but is saddened when he gets no reply. Finally, he got up from the chair next to Kurt's bed and picked his guitar up from the other side of the room. He sat back down and sang quietly to Kurt, hoping that he would hear.

Kurt finally woke up a week later. His father was the first to find out, and he was sitting right next to him when he spoke his first words again. As company came and went, Kurt waited patiently for them to leave for good so he could talk to the one that was there most often (besides his dad, that doesn't count). He finally got that chance at 6, when everyone else had gone to dinner. Blaine had been in class all day, and had already eaten, so he happily volunteered to keep Kurt company while everyone else was gone. When everyone had left, Kurt looked at Blaine as though he was crazy.

"John Lennon? Classic Blaine, real classic."

"You remember?"

"Everything. The car crash story, you trying to make up funny stories to French verbs…nice try, by the way." The two laughed, and Blaine let the sound wash over his ears like a tidal wave. It had been so long, too long. "But why that song?"

"Blackbird?"

"Yeah. I mean, that's the first song that came to your mind?"

"Yeah, I guess. The lyrics sort of fit, too."

"How is that?"

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. This can only make you stronger. And him weaker, of course, but I wasn't going to add that because you're too nice." Kurt tipped his head to the side, and it reminded Blaine of a confused puppy. "You would've chastised me even though he deserves to die."

"I would've and I am, but you know what? There are lots of people who deserve to die, and they will. But so will we. It's the way other people see our deaths that make us who we were when we lived."

**Late (ish) update this morning but whatever. The power went out for almost two hours so I was writing another story I started on my Tumblr. All is well, though! Thanks for reading, click the button at the bottom of this page to send some nice thoughts and even suggestions :)**

**-Hollywood  
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	33. Baby

**Challenge #33: Baby**

**(Suggested by Boris Yeltsin)**

**[leading up to future Brittana]**

Santana knew that her mother never really cared about her. Sure, she and her father used to do fun things with her when she was little, but that's when she was cute and innocent, unable to fend for herself. As soon as she was able to work simple kitchen tools she was left alone most of the time, making what she could for dinner and tucking herself into bed. At only six years old she had become entirely responsible for herself, used to the constant traffic and fighting outside because that's often what she fell asleep to.

At fourteen her virginity had been taken, and she was slowly building up the reputation she was now trying so hard to shake at twenty-nine. She often had visitors in her lonely apartment, but they would leave all too soon, Santana never feeling loved, only empty and used. Young and not knowing how to cope with the feeling, she brought more men in until she was a common name with their type of people, now known as the little fifteen-year old that would put out for almost anyone.

At sixteen she had ditched the older men in her life, pretending she no longer lived in the shabby Lima Heights apartment almost completely alone. Instead she shot for people her own age, who were now dealing with peer pressure and almost a little too easy to seduce. She didn't mind, though. Sometimes some of them would even stay the night with her, and she was almost peaceful falling asleep with someone else next to her.

She had some clue of what love was, but that vision had been clouded by the many people who she let use her, until the definition got lost in long, restless nights and requests of giving more than she could. At seventeen her knowledge of everything sexual was far too mature for her age, but she couldn't help it. She just wanted to be loved. Dazed and confused she stumbled into her best friend, the girl who had been with her through all of the shit she put herself through. Although Brittany lived in a more privileged part of town she knew clearly how Lima Heights worked, and how quickly it tore apart her best friend until she was barely a person at all. Through her years Santana had become solid stone, unbreakable and passive to any advances. If someone did try to make a move, she simply asked them straight forward if sex is what they wanted. She was so used to it that shame wasn't even an issue anymore. In her world, where she had been alone and taken advantage of almost her whole life, love had been nonexistent.

At first she had been using Brittany. Bitter and sick of being alone, she wanted someone else to feel the way she felt every day. Santana didn't know why she chose her best friend to inflict this pain on, but it seemed to be working. Brittany often asked her why she was doing this to her, but Santana never replied. She never had an answer, only another question to counteract it.

Santana's plan had completely backfired. For once in her life she had found herself totally reliant on a single person, and it scared her. Slowly, she felt her grip on the male population of McKinley loosen, and for once it didn't hurt her. In November of her seventeenth year of life, Santana fell asleep alone and happy for the first time since she was six years old. As fall turned to winter and flipped again to spring Santana felt the weight of her old life slip easily off of her shoulders. With one other openly gay couple at McKinley, the population was becoming more and more accepting. Coming out wasn't as hard as she thought it would be-especially since she had Brittany by her side the whole entire time.

By the time they were twenty-three they were happily married, having moved over to New York because of legalization issues and Brittany's newfound dance career. It hadn't been easy, though. Santana's mother had suddenly wanted to be part of her life, starting with the fact that her daughter was marrying a woman.

"You just need to reacquaint yourself with men, you never did spend enough time with them." Her mother insisted. She had come home early that day, while Santana was home for Christmas break.

"Trust me, I spent plenty of time with men during my childhood. I know what I want, mom. You just have to accept the fact that I'm a lesbian."

"But…you can't even have babies." She glared at her mother, wondering if she was actually serious with this notion. She was, and Santana began to collect her things.

"Not like I would let you into my child's life anyway, mom. You're a wreck and you always have been! I thought you were ready to change but apparently you never will!"

After their argument, Santana never talked to her mother again. Her mother's comment got to her, though, and she often dreamt of blonde haired, blue eyed toddlers that could never truly be theirs. After one of her dreams they started to file papers for adoption, and after an agonizing two year wait they were finally ready to pick their child up.

He was from Germany, and the two had to travel to pick him up. The day after they arrived they waited anxiously in the airport for their son, watching as a line of mothers entered the waiting area, each with a little bundle attached to them. Their mother was pointed toward them and they caught the first glimpse of their son from across the room, Brittany the first to spot him. They waited for the mother to walk toward them, and as she handed her son over they thanked her repeatedly, Brittany the first to hold him. She held him so she could see his eyes, dazzling blue and curiously looking her way. He had bits of blonde hair on his head, and his skin was fair like hers. His name was Hayden and he was finally theirs. She hugged him close and then let Santana have her turn.

At first she was hesitant, unsure of whether or not he would take to her. He did, though, resting his head on her shoulder and yawning. It had been a long, emotional day. As they finally got back to their hotel room they slept with Hayden between them, not wanting to let him go. After two years holding him seemed unreal, let alone starting their life as a family. Santana was proving her mother wrong; they could have the baby they always wanted, and they did.

**A little short, but it's been a while since there's been Brittana so I'm happy :) **


	34. Multiply

**Challenge 34: Multiply**

**(suggested by ADreamerInAWorldOfRealists)**

**[Future Fabrevans]**

Sam had never been good at math. In school his forte had been English, him always writing creative, in-depth stories that seemingly just came to him from nowhere. He had always been creative, though, so it was no surprise to him nor his parents that English had become his favorite subject almost immediately. Although he had trouble reading, the writing came as easy as breathing, the words flowing onto his paper in a fashion that made the other boys in his school look on in envy.

Math was hard for Sam. The numbers and formulas never really clicked in his head, starting with multiplication and moving on from there. Truth be told, he cheated on his final multiplication tables test. Sitting on his hands, he covertly used all of the little tricks for tables as the teacher quizzed him verbally. He was the only one that ever knew of his cheating.

From there, his math skills only depleted. He was good at algebra; the formulas were simple and his teacher explained everything to them in detail. He thought that it was the easiest by far because if you knew how to do the formula, then it was a simple matter of plugging in numbers. It was the most straight-forward, too. He liked the fact that if you knew how to do it, you'd always get the same answer. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about algebra, just simple math that a calculator could be used for.

Geometry was a different story. For Sam, everything felt so abstract and complicated. One problem could have more than one answer, and there was just so much justification. He had always thought math was straightforward, but geometry proved him wrong, and he hated it. He understood the real life concepts, but he just wished it didn't have to be so complicated. For once in his life he actually missed multiplication.

When Sam was twenty-three and married, he was faced with the challenge of applying his least favorite math trick to everything. It all began when he and Quinn went in for her first ultrasound, the first time they'd hear the heartbeat of their first baby. He held her hand and stared intently at the screen, watching through the blurry black and white for the first glimpse of his baby. The technician smiled at them, moving her finger over to the monitor.

"There's one head, there's the other. Both heartbeats are healthy. Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Evans, you're expecting twins!" They both just sort of stared at the screen, and then Quinn began to cry, holding onto his hand tighter. She was smiling, though, her eyes never leaving the two little lives on the monitor. She looked up at him, hazel eyes shining with tears, and he kissed her forehead, letting the news sink in.

"That's two times the diapers, two times the bottles. Can we fit another crib in the nursery?" Quinn was running through a list in her head, pulling out a piece of paper and pen as they drove home that afternoon. She was already making a list of what they'd need, although she wasn't due for eight more months.

"Yes, and how many diapers do you need in the first place?"

"…A lot?" They laughed and pulled into the parking lot of a baby store, deciding to get started on their shopping early.

It wasn't until their five month appointment that they found out the baby's sexes. They were nervous, not fully sure what they wanted. Before they found out they were having twins, they thought for sure it'd be a boy. Some sort of hunch had hit them both, and they figured a boy would be their first little blessing. Finding out they were expecting two instead of one threw a curveball at their intuition, though, and now neither knew what to think.

The babies were much more visible on the monitor now, and Sam took it as the first time they'd really see them. Although they'd seen them before, now they'd have more identity than 'Baby A and Baby B,' a concept Sam had hated as soon as the words left the doctor's mouth. They didn't have names, though, and so they decided to give them nicknames, making sure they weren't gender specific. Now the doctor, a good friend of Quinn's, had picked up on them too. She moved the wand over Quinn's stomach and pointed to the first head, where the couple could see the baby's little nose. The first was Baby A, which they had nicknamed Peanut. Its name fit, because it was much smaller than the second baby, which Sam decided to call Button.

They had been blessed with a perfect balance, Peanut their princess and Button their little man. Quinn's due date was inching closer, and now it was just a waiting game. Quinn was off of work, so she spent most of the day making sure everything was all set up. They had finished all of their shopping, a closet full of diapers waiting for their two new arrivals. She talked a lot with Sam about the delivery, which she could tell he was growing increasingly nervous about.

"I did it with one, why can't I do it with two?" She was more than ready to be able to hold her babies, knowing that with this birth, she'd actually be taking them home. They'd be officially hers, and she was more than excited to finally have the complete bond of motherhood.

Quinn would be lying if she said she didn't think about Beth, but she wouldn't deny it. She thought about her first born often, even when she hadn't been pregnant with the twins. Giving Beth up was the hardest thing she'd ever done, but looking back on it she realized it had been the right thing to do. She had seen Beth a few times-not enough to really know her personality, but on birthdays and some minor holidays. She knew that Beth was a happy little girl, now eight years old. Eight years ago, Quinn had been the most miserable teenager ever, kicked out of her house and contemplating the fate of someone who wouldn't have as much of a say in their life. It had put a major toll on her, but she had done it. Now, eight years later, Quinn was excited to welcome her babies into the world, knowing they'd be brought into a home full of love, where food could be abundant and she could be available to her kids full time until they grew to school age. This time around, she was ready to be the mother she'd been waiting to be for so long.

The delivery wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. She had gone into a C-Section, the twins having difficulty flipping. She waited and stared at the little screen that separated her from seeing them working on her stomach, trying desperately not to listen to the sounds of their operating. Sam stood on the other side, waiting to cut the chord and hold their children for the first time.

The first was a boy, crying quietly as the light of the room fully hit him. The operators announced the gender and wrapped little Button in a blanket, handing him over to a now sobbing Quinn. The second was their little girl, size true to her nickname. It seemed as though her brother had stolen all of her size, looking much larger in comparison to their little Peanut.

Sam had never been good at math. He barely knew how to do it, let alone teach it. This was basic, though, and he laid on the carpet with his two year old twins and a bucket of colorful bears, taking a handful and beginning to spread them out. He lined them up like soldiers in front of the twins, instructing them gently not to touch. A blue bear started the line, followed by a green one and a pink one. The pattern when on a few times and then stopped at a blue one. Sam held out a few bears first to the little girl, and she plucked a green one from his hand after a moment of thought.

"Yay Ella!" He clapped his hands and the little girl grinned, clapping along with him. Her hazel eyes light up, and her blonde hair bounced as she clapped, pulled into a single little ponytail on the top of her head. Sam held out the bears to the little boy and he grabbed a pink one, putting it behind his sister's. Sam clapped again, Ella joining him in congratulating her brother.

"Yay Cooper!" They played this game for a while, the twins really getting into it. They were so consumed with their game that they hadn't seen Quinn standing in the doorway, home from her shopping trip. She smiled and watched as her husband played with their kids, trying to bring a little learning moment into their play as he did often. She knew Sam wasn't very good with math, but if one thing he made an excellent father.

**I'm so sorry for the delay, but I hope all of you Fabrevans lovers are happy with this little gift :) I know a lot of you were waiting for a future fic for them, so here it is :)**

**Reviews are loved! (As of now I need one more to 100!) and suggestions are loved (and also will be needed soon pleaseandthankyou)**

**-Hollywood**


	35. Pictures

**Challenge # 35: Pictures**

**[Fabrevans]**

**Little Disclaimer: Sugar isn't in character because I wrote this before her description came out. To be honest, the name hasn't been changed because although it may be distracting, I find it hilarious just how wrong I wrote Sugar. Just ignore it :)**

The first time Quinn brought her new friend Sugar home she knew her mother wouldn't approve-if she said anything at all, that was. She still hadn't commented on her fluorescent pink hair or all-black wardrobe, only glanced and rolled her eyes. Granted, Quinn's dresses were still pristine, tucked in the back of her walk-in closet and ignored just as all of the problems in her life had always been. To her mother, who had never had to work a day in her life, a new 'toy' or any sort of purchase had become a consolation prize for whatever had been going on around them. Her mother's new Lexus had come from the money she'd won from her divorce, and she'd paraded around in it for almost a month before she'd became bored again. The boob job that followed was the product of Quinn's older sister's car accident and the money that had come from the law suit. Each charm on Quinn's bracelet was meaningless, a reminder of the things that could've been, the things that had been 'fixed' by charms and pretty things that merely glazed over the harshness her existence brought her.

Sugar was easy to hang out with. Although she seemed a tad impersonal at times, she wasn't catty, which was what Quinn admired the most about her from the start. Unlike her friends from cheerleading, Sugar didn't care where Quinn came from, even if her 'creators' were a drunken skank and a man-whore rich boy. That being said, Sugar was too occupied with drugs and alcohol to care about much but the latter two, each new high only sending her deeper into a spiraling haze of slurred words and mixed-up emotions until she hadn't even had a clue of who she was anymore.

Quinn had tried once, when Sugar was new to her life and she had wanted desperately to change, to find a new crowd and escape the horrible events she'd been through the first half of her summer. At first there was nothing; only thick, dirty smog gathering in her mouth. As it was released a cloud of smoke danced in front of her eyes, evaporating almost as quickly as her brain had now begun to. As she sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Sugar she felt every part of her body melt seamlessly into the other, mixing and pouring about one another in an ebb and flow that reminded her fondly of the ocean. Laying with her face toward the ceiling Quinn took another drag, making sure she watched as the smoke poured above her. By the third inhalation she was laughing, a happy sort of pain tugging at the melted organs on her side. Everything felt light, as if she were a feather in a room stacked to the ceiling with bricks. She liked this new feeling, where a plethora of emotions dissipated into one and her thoughts, although barely coherent, were centered around her own happiness.

Quinn had _only _tried once. The crash was almost too painful to bear. They had moved locations once their high had been hit, Quinn's room a much more luxurious place than Sugar's run-down apartment. Sugar was the first to come down off of her high, the so-called crash nothing more than a mere stumbling for the veteran. As everything became normal again she scanned the room, lifting herself uneasily from the floor to poke around. Her dizzying state subsided, her eyes were drawn to a large piece of cork that hung over Quinn's neatly kempt desk. The cork was covered with photographs, plane tickets, and little pins one would get from Disney World, one group of photographs sticking out from the rest.

They were surrounded by red and pink construction paper, with one familiar name and another Sugar hadn't even hear Quinn mention. He was tall compared to her, with blonde hair a shade almost perfectly matched to hers. In the middle picture they stood together, his arm wrapped tight around her waist, in a dress and a collared shirt. At first Sugar had guessed they were at a dance, but she soon realized that everyone else was wearing the same thing. Someone behind them held a trophy high over his head and everyone was staring at it in awe, the perfect celebratory moment frozen in time. The people around them were euphoric, but while the euphoria spread to Quinn and the boy there was something different about the two groups. The others solely had their eyes glued to the prize above their heads, faces filled with a sense of euphoric pride and accomplishment. The couple in the middle only had eyes for one another. There was a certain bated intensity in their stares that compelled Sugar to look away; she felt as though she were intruding on a private moment although the moment had taken place seemingly long before. Looking down at one of the two aforementioned blondes her mind ran in circles of curiosity, one question spinning after the other at a rate so fast she could barely pick one. Who was this girl, the one who claimed to be so badass and happily independent? She nudged Quinn with her polished foot and the blonde yawned, waking slowly from a sickened sleep. She rubbed her bloodshot eyes and stared up at Sugar in confusion, a tad angered that her once peaceful sleep had been disturbed. Sugar moved back to the board and pointed to the picture she'd been observing a few moments before.

"I thought you were awake…I just wanted to know who this is." Quinn got up from her place on the floor reluctantly and moved slowly to the board. The moment her eyes met the too-familiar picture she wanted to look away, but was mesmerized. He was like a magnet to her, and as she stared longingly at the gaze that had once met hers the picture became blurry, her eyes filling with unshed tears. As the first involuntary tear fell she stumbled back to her bed, collapsing pitifully onto it and hiding her head in her pillow ashamedly. "…Quinn?" Sugar had followed her to the bed, sitting hesitantly on its edge and placing a gentle hand softly onto her back. "I-I didn't mean to make you cry…I'm sorry." That's what Quinn liked about her; Sugar had a hard exterior, seemingly bitchy and frightening when in reality she had gone through some of the same problems Quinn was. This was they were hiding together, two friends brought together by their problems and hiding them as a team-two friends with fake shells they would never let crack.

"I promised him. I promised him and I let him down." She had shifted her head so her voice wouldn't be muffled and Sugar caught a glimpse of her face. She was worn, her normally semi-tan skin now flushed with a bright pink, tear tracks running down her face as snot dripped from her nose. Quinn Fabray, who was usually the level-headed, graceful crier of the two, had turned into a mess at the sight of him.

"What did you promise him?"

"That I'd stop." Her voice was becoming more and more coherent, the crying dying down forcibly. Quinn rubbed her eyes hastily and sat up, some or her normal color beginning to return to her face.

"Stop what?"

"Everything." She paused for a moment, unsure of where to begin. Moving over to her bulletin board she un-tacked the picture and brought it back to the bed, looking at it with a pitiful, forlorn expression. "He really cared about me, you know. He was the first guy to make me feel special, that I could be myself around him and he wouldn't care. He was the first guy that made me feel anything, really. He's the first person I told about my past-my _real _past; the cutting, the starvation. He's the first person who cared. He invested himself in getting me to stop. He used to tell me that I was worth _everything _to him every day when he saw me. I made a stupid mistake and lost him and every single negative feeling I'd ever had came back. He still cared, though. He was still invested in keeping me safe, keeping me _alive,_ even after we'd broken up. I thought there was hope. Then he got a new girlfriend and invested all of his time in her and I was left alone, trying to replicate what he'd made me feel through past boyfriends that had never even come close. A month later he moved back to Tennessee, only leaving letters to some of us to let us know where he'd gone. Goodbyes had always been painful for him." It was as though her feelings had caught in her throat, her words stuck underneath a mass of things she'd been trying to hide for so long. It was an awkward sort of silence, Sugar left wondering if Quinn had fully completed her thought and what she should say if the other girl had. Quin took a long, deep breath in and then exhaled loudly, sitting up in her bed and tucking the picture behind her pillow, giving it one last longing glance before loneliness finally reached her empty hazel eyes.

"It's amazing how much one person can mean to you."

"Do you think about him often?"

"Every day. And it hurts so much, remembering the things we used to do together, but at the same time I guess it sort of gives me hope."

"How?"

"It's like he was my light. With him I was turning into a happy, normal teenager. He was my clean slate, my chance to start over. I just keep thinking he might come back, you know? What we had was something you can't just erase, no matter how much you might want to." She began to play with the fabric of her duvet, its soft, warm texture a comfort for her nerves and increasing sadness. "Even if he doesn't come back, I'll still have something. The thing about Sam is that he changed me in a really good way, and now I never want to go back to where I was before him."

Quinn Fabray had a cluster of photographs from when they were dating hung diligently on a cork board above her desk. Every morning looked at them, at _him, _and practically feel his words engrain themselves into her mind.

"You are worth more than something, you are worth _everything._ I can't imagine a live without you, Quinn Fabray, and I never want to live one."


	36. Unread Letters

**Challenge 36: Unread Letters**

**[Fabrevans]**

Sam Evans sat in class turning his pen around between his fingers. While astronomy was one of his favorite classes, he was having trouble focusing on the lesson his stout, balding teacher was trying to convey. He wasn't the only one; The boy with the long hair that covered his eyes next to him was creating an elaborate doodle while the girl to his right had already filled a page of her notebook with a note she was now discreetly passing to her friend. They weren't helping his case too much. Their teacher moved to the chalk board and Sam rifled through his bag for a notebook, stopping when he noticed a thick pink one that had been shoved in the middle of his pile. He took it out and immediately noticed the carefully scribbled letters over its cover; S&Q. A familiar pang set in his heart and he turned the book over in his hands, letting his mind soak in the writing. His teacher cleared his throat and he opened the book, taking out a pen and preparing to write. As he bent over the first page he realized it was filled with the same curly writing that had covered the first page. Looking up to see that his teacher wasn't watching, he began with the first line.

_Day one;_

_We just started dating. I don't know how it happened, but at one point I was standing in front of your locker with my nail file, smiling in satisfaction as I heard the lock click open. It was at that point that I realized my agenda. It was at that point that I realized I was truly continuing to fall more and more in love with you. I know the feeling, I've felt variations of it with other guys before. Or at least, I thought I felt it before. Nothing's ever come close to this, and when I slip your ring on my finger it just feels _right, _as if it belongs there. I want to get to know you, I want to know everything about you. Some day, maybe I'll show this to you and we'll laugh together. Maybe it'll be when we're old and frail, sitting on a porch swing with our grandchildren running around us._

_I can already picture a future with you. I can already see everything we can be, and it scares me, this variation of love. It's one that I can't control, one that keeps me awake with the memories of the things you've said to me, or the way you've looked at me. Just writing the word sends shivers down my spine, makes my knees go weak. It's the type of fear that makes me want to keep going rather than run away, because I know you could never hurt me. It's a strange kind of fear, but I'm getting used to it. The fact that you love me helps even more._

His teacher was still unfocused but class was over, the people surrounding him gathering their stuff. He closed the notebook but kept it out, slinging his bag over his shoulder and holding the book close as he made his way over to his truck. The sun was bright and unwelcoming and he scoffed at it, still in a bit of a daze from the book. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, only wishing to be connected to blue pen, notebook paper, and the curly, feminine writing he missed so much.

_Day seven:_

_Happy one week, Sammy. I'm so proud to be your girlfriend. You've made my life so much better by just being around. I'm so lucky I get to see you every day. Every time you stop me in the hallway to kiss me or just tell me I look beautiful I melt a little inside. You make me feel happy, you make me feel _worth something. _I've never really felt that before._

_Since I'm not sure you'll ever really see this, I'll let you in on a little secret. I've self-harmed before. I've had those days where all I want to do is die, because I feel as though I'm not worth anything. It hurt, Sam. I promised myself I'd never do it again because I never wanted to feel anything like that ever again. I sat on the bathroom floor for what seems like hours just trying to stop the bleeding. I didn't even get that deep. That made me feel worse. I just kept thinking '_I can't even do this right. Why am I on this Earth?'

_That's the one thing I've always wondered, even in situations where I've felt the most happy, or when I've had the most joy in my heart. I've always wondered why I'm here, what I'm supposed to be doing with my life. I still don't know, but I can say this; Somewhere in all of this confusion, you came along. I'm not sure how or why, but I know it was meant to be. I think it was fate that brought you to me in my roughest time, when I just didn't want to live anymore. Fate brought you to save me, Sammy. I couldn't be more thankful for your presence in my life. Thank you for being with me, Sam. Thank you for saving me._

As he went on, he saw every little aspect of their relationship from her eyes; their first date, the first time they kissed. He understood her now more than he ever had before, and as her soft, soothing voice narrated in his head he played each story back accordingly. Looking through her eyes made him feel different, his new bedroom shrinking in size to accommodate his sinking heart. Birds chirped outside of his window and each happy sound made him feel as if he was being personally victimized, a stab traveling straight to his heart.

…_A While After;_

_I've said 'I'm sorry too much, Sam. Believe me, I know. I understand that you can't forgive me, because I've done everything wrong. You were and still are the best thing that's ever happened to me, I just want you to remember that. Through everything I knew you were the one who'd support me, the one who'd make sure I was ok. After I told you about the cutting and the one-time suicide attempt you stayed with me to make sure I was ok. You are truly amazing._

_I miss your good morning texts and the sweet voicemails you leave me at night. I still haven't deleted them-that would mean it would sincerely be over. I'm not ready to face that fact yet. I know I've done a lot of things, and I don't exactly have the best track record, but it will always be you, Sam. Always. I miss your smile and your kisses, and I miss the way I felt so warm and safe when you hugged me. I wish I wasn't so screwed up. I wish I could be the type of girl who is good enough for you, but I know in my heart that I'm not. I have too much baggage, and you were nice enough to take that on without questioning me. At this point I wish you had, though. I wouldn't have hurt you that way._

The page was laced with soaked-in tear stains, the pen smudging in places and making it almost impossible to read. He hadn't known she had been sincere. Hell, at that point he hadn't known anything. He had been blinded by the way she made him feel, until even talking to her had become a painful affair. He couldn't help but think that all of this was his fault; the breakup, 'Samcedes,' the move. He had hurt her in more ways she had ever hurt him, and he felt awful and betrayed and confused all at once. She still moved him even though she'd broken his heart into one million pieces. As his eyes completed the last line he blinked back unshed tears, a realization forming in his heart. A piece of himself still remained in Ohio, sitting in the too-large, rich girl house she shared with her mother. Turning the page he was met with more writing, unexpected after their break-up.

_I heard._

_I heard you were moving. Mercedes told me. She's been telling me a lot lately. I guess that's what being friends is about. She told me about your relationship. Well, your past relationship. I'm glad you found someone who could make you happy, Sam. Even if you had to move back to Tennessee. I miss you, Sam. More than ever. I thought that your being gone would make things easier, but it's only made things worse. I can't go a day without thinking about you, and its making me sick. I want to stop, but I can't. I know I did you wrong but I love you, I'll always love you. I still have the voicemails on my phone and the love songs you recorded for our anniversary in my CD player. Hearing your voice makes the fact that you've gone almost unbelievable. I still know you have, though, because I've driven by that same motel room in hopes you'll still be there. There's usually no cars there, not even your trusty old pickup truck. Everything's so different without you, so boring. _

_I'm leaving this with you in hopes that you'll read it. That's all I really want you to do. Some of these things are what I've wanted to say to you since the day we broke up, and I don't know, I just really think you should have it. Think of it as entertainment in Tennessee, something to remember good old Lima by. _

_I really miss you. I love you beyond anything I've ever felt before. Remember that._

_~Quinn_

_Quinn,_

_I'm mailing this back to you, but not because I don't want it. I read every single line on every single page. I'm so sorry, Quinn. I never wanted any of this to happen. As much as I was hurt before, trying to see other girls made me realize that there _aren't _any other girls, only you. I was too stupid to realize that before I left, and now I'm just afraid you've forgotten all about me. I definitely haven't forgotten about you._

_I miss the way you were so caring, the way you had me wrapped around your finger and didn't know it. I miss seeing how beautiful you looked in my letterman's jacket or one of my oversized t-shirts, and the way you said you were cold when I knew you just wanted to wear my sweatshirt. I miss your laugh and your voice, and the little things we used to do together that made our relationship what it was. Most of all, I just miss you. Yesterday I came home from work thinking I was feeling homesick, so I called Puck and Finn and then Artie, but nothing worked. I looked at pictures from the old house and then from the motel room, but it was still the same. Finally, I came across a picture of us and I felt that sort of pain you get in your stomach when you feel like your heart's been broken and it hit me; I just miss _you. _If you want to, you can call me. I just really need to hear your voice again. _

_I still love you, it's impossible for me to _stop _loving you. No matter what happens, I'll never forget you Lucy Quinn Fabray._

_~Sam_


	37. Simplicity

**Challenge 37: Simplicity**

**[Fabrevans]**

Quinn liked simple things now more than ever. She was used to glamour, glitz, and the world of being a rich man's daughter, but simplicity seemed to catch her eye more than anything else had. When she was younger, she'd stand at her bedroom window and watch cars and pedestrians pass by the black iron gate in front of her house. Everybody who crossed the path in front of her house had a story, a purpose. More often than not she'd make them up; a family on their way to a reunion, a happy couple coming back from a first date. None of them were ever alone like she was, but that only made her feel worse.

Simplicity caught up to her in the form of an average sized blonde. He was her reality check. In a world where all she'd wanted was to have a simple life, his had been ripped from him in a few months of hell. He'd gone from being happy with the necessities to craving them daily. He'd been given the challenge of sucking it up and living in happiness, becoming more of a father to his siblings than he'd ever had to be in his whole life. He'd gone from a simple two story house in a suburban neighborhood to a cramped motel room off of a main road. Sam Evans craved simplicity more than ever because his had been ripped from him. The life he'd known had disappeared in a cloud of confusion and sadness.

It had been so long since she'd had him, since he'd held her in his arms and told her he'd love her forever. She'd made the same promise, and then everything slipped away. He'd gone back to Tennessee, met a girl, and now they were probably in love with no turning back. Quinn thought about him often, mostly looking out her window at the waves crashing against the shore. Her rich-girl lifestyle had bought her the simplicity she'd needed; A well-paying, simple job and seclusion near the ocean in a cabin she'd picked herself. Its exterior was that of a fairy tale cottage with an inside to match, everything she'd wanted as a little girl. Only now she had no one to share it with.

She'd probably forgotten him by now, even though he'd told her again and again that she was the one he'd wanted to marry. He was probably rich, their little family living in an upstate New York mansion. He pictured her hair short again-she'd always said long hair was a hassle with kids. He pictured her at home with her baby while her husband worked in an office to provide for their family, never really there to see the family he was providing for. In each aspect of her life he pictured, everything was the exact opposite of himself. He'd chosen a job geared toward himself, selling music and giving lessons at a store downtown, right in the heart of the town he'd grown to love. He hadn't known why he'd picked Brimington, it'd just happened. There was a glow about it that seemed oddly welcoming, as if it was already his home before he'd even unpacked.

She was slow coming home from work the next day. The elementary school where she'd been teaching first grade was right near the center of town, which was filled with little shops and restaurants she frequented often for lesson ideas. Today was no exception, and Quinn, in her long cotton dress and sunhat, ventured into town straight from school, deciding that next week's lessons could wait a while longer. She window-shopped in delight, giving a friendly wave to some of her passerby's. Some were students of hers while others were neighbors, but what Quinn adored most about being in town was that she could identify most by name. It wasn't as if she hadn't lived in a small town before-Lima's population wasn't exactly that of New York City- but the feel of the two towns were different. It was as if she had been allowed to move to a grown-up town, one full of accepting people as well as having the small-town feel she'd most craved after the seclusion of her bedroom.

She was still new, exploring with the hesitant curiosity of children the age she was teaching. She'd been in her usual shops; A little coffee place she frequented on her way to work, a clothing store where the clerk knew her by name, and an antiques shop run by one of her student's parents. As she turned a corner she discovered a whole new square, three or four shops outlining it and turning it into a dead end. Across the street, at one side of the incomplete square, a smaller store was the first to catch her eye. A large treble cleff dangled from a rod next to its door, rocking in the breeze. She could easily see a row of electric guitars lined up in its window and watched in amusement as a gaggle of younger boys stood in front of it to ogle them. She laughed a light, tinkling giggle as she recognized one from her class and made her way over, eager to see the shop.

"Hi Landon! What are you boys doing?" The boy in question turned in shock, recognizing the voice immediately. His smile grew immensely and he ducked to hide behind one of the other boys, an older version of him with the same dark hair and bright blue eyes.

"Landon, say hi, don't be shy!" He tried to pry the boy from his legs and finally, after much effort from the older, freckled boy, the younger came to the front and waved to Quinn shyly, his head still ducked. "I'm his brother, Justin."

"Well it's nice to meet you. Is this shop new? I haven't really been down here before."

"Not really, it's been here a while. Since before you came, I think. The owner's really nice, just moved here too. We've been in a few times looking at the music. I take guitar lessons with him."

"Oh, well that's nice. So it's worth going in and checking it out then?" Justin smiled, loving the enthusiasm of his timid little brother's new teacher. With hair the color of sunshine, she looked as though she belonged more in a magazine than she did teaching first graders. The other boys smiled politely and dragged their friends along, the brothers giving Quinn a quick goodbye and waving past her before running off, letting off another quick hello. She turned to enter the shop and was met head first with a soft sort of force, one that still seemed to be strong enough to knock her to the ground. Before she could even begin to hit the brick sidewalk, though, a strong pair of arms pulled her back and she could hear the voice belonging to it gasp in surprise.

"Whoa, careful there Miss. Are you alright?" Their eyes met at the same time, and in an instant they were reconnected to their pasts, back to Lima Ohio and long, lustful Spring days. They were transported to a time when they were the only thing that mattered; when they could just be them and everything would be ok. Quinn gasped and clutched at the ring on her finger, concealing it from his view. She didn't want to turn him away from her, especially since it had been so long. He noticed, though. He noticed everything about her, a skill he still held after all of these years.

He said nothing, only glanced down at the hand she had hidden in the pockets of her dress. He didn't want to think that his reality had come true, that she really _had _married someone else, far better off without him. His little store was probably nothing compared to the big city law firm her husband made his living at. She followed his glance and swallowed nervously, hers traveling to his bare left hand. In a moment of rediscovered confidence she pulled her hand from her pocket and held it out to him, gold hearted ring still in perfect condition on her finger, nervous eyes and shaky smile saying everything she'd wanted to from the day they'd let each other go.

"I've missed you, Sam." His breath caught in the back of his throat at her voice, leaving him without any sort of reply. Instead, he pulled her back into his embrace and laid his head on hers. They still fit perfectly together, like a long-loved puzzle passed down from parent to child, survivors of rough weather and hard emotions. When she began to pull back he held her at arms length, greedily taking in her appearance with a warm, welcoming smile.

"I've missed you too." He let her go but still held her hand in his, unwilling to let her go after all of the years he'd just barely lived without her. Reaching inside the door of his shop, he flipped the small, black sign to closed and gave his employees a break. Her smile grew wide as they began to walk and she swung their hands, a happiness she could barely contain growing deep inside of her. She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. She'd always liked simplicity.


End file.
